The Aan 
 of the Family 
 
 Christian Reid
 
 ~ - ^ vrujr*. 
 
 ' ' 
 
 f. fa
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 CHRISTIAN REID 
 
 Author of "A Woman of Fortune," " Armine," " Philip's 
 
 Restitution," " The Child of Mary," "Heart of 
 
 Steel," " The Land of the Sun," etc. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 NEW YORK & LONDON 
 Untcfcerbocher press 
 1897
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1897 
 
 BY 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 Ube Imfcfterbocfeer presa, ew Borft
 
 URL 
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY,
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 PART I 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 No one who has seen the beautiful Bayou Teche country 
 of Louisiana the land where the exiled Acadians found a 
 second and fairer home can ever forget its charming and 
 picturesque aspects : the broad stretches of its verdant 
 levels ; its fields luxuriant with cane or green with rice ; 
 its pastoral expanses of meadow and plain ; above all, its 
 spacious, old-fashioned homes, which, with their broad 
 roof-trees and wide galleries, stand beneath the spreading 
 shade of giant live-oaks, gazing out upon the wide, silvery 
 reaches of the river. 
 
 At the landing in front of one of these residences, the 
 steamboat which plies up and down the Bayou dropped one 
 day a visitor a man of middle age and business-like ap- 
 pearance who walked towards the house, which stood a 
 hundred or so yards distant from the stream, under the 
 shade of its great trees. No one was to be perceived in or 
 around it ; and an air of slumberous quiet seemed to per- 
 vade the whole place, although the doors and windows 
 were all open to the golden sunshine of the autumn day. 
 As the visitor approached he paused now and then to sur-
 
 8 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 vey comprehensively the mansion in the midst of its lawn, 
 the tangled garden in its rear, and the level green country, 
 a very Arcadia of fertility and beauty, which spread on 
 each side as far as the eye could reach ; while the smoke 
 from the chimneys of the various sugar-mills in sight rose 
 into the exquisite atmosphere, a token that it was the 
 height of the sugar-making season. 
 
 " A fine plantation," observed the new-comer to him- 
 self, as his glance passed over the fields of cane in the im- 
 mediate neighborhood ; " and well kept up, considering 
 that it is in the hands of a woman. Hum-hum ! The 
 money will not be badly invested. Interest for ten years, 
 and at last this ! But who comes here ?" 
 
 The figure on which his eye had suddenly fallen was ad- 
 vancing towards the house from the direction of the sugar- 
 mill, which stood at one side, perhaps a quarter of a mile 
 distant a slim, straight feminine figure, dressed in a dark 
 skirt and light shirt-waist, with an immensely broad- 
 brimmed shade hat, such as the laborers throughout the 
 country wore. Under this hat, as its wearer drew nearer, 
 he perceived the delicate -featured face of a girl, whose dark 
 eyes regarded him with anything but a look of welcome. 
 They met in the middle of the lawn, and he lifted his hat 
 in salutation. 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Yvonne ?" he said, with an ease 
 of manner for which there seemed scant warrant. " I see 
 that you are busy, as usual, overlooking things. Quite 
 the ' man of the family ' ha, ha ! I've often said that 
 your business qualities are most remarkable for a young 
 lady. I hope your mother is well ?" 
 
 " Is my mother expecting you ?" asked the young lady. 
 
 " N o," with a little hesitation. " I have taken the 
 liberty of coming without notifying her. Business called
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 9 
 
 me to Bayou Teche at this time, and I decided that it was 
 a good opportunity to have a personal interview with Ma- 
 dame Prevost. Letters are apt to be ah unsatisfactory, 
 and things can be better arranged sometimes by talking 
 them over." 
 
 " If you will come in," said the girl, ignoring this as 
 she had ignored his other remark, " I will let my mother 
 know that you are here." 
 
 They had now reached the steps which led down from 
 the pillared front of the dwelling to the lawn ; and, ascend- 
 ing them together, crossed the gallery to the door, which 
 stood hospitably wide open, displaying a spacious hall that 
 rose to the second story, and extended throughout the 
 house. Leading the way, Yvonne ushered the self-invited 
 guest across this hall and into a large, lofty room of fine 
 proportions. 
 
 " My mother will no doubt see you in a few minutes," 
 she said ; and then, closing the door, left him alone. 
 
 He stood where she had left him, taking in the aspect 
 of this apartment, so different from any to which he was 
 accustomed, and so full of the subtle aroma of the past 
 that it was able to impress even his dull soul with a sense 
 of something apart from the intrinsic value of the objects 
 at which he looked. There was not a trace of the modern 
 world perceptible in this stately salon, with its lofty ceiling 
 panelled in fine stucco relief. Every article of furniture 
 which it contained was clearly an importation from France, 
 and at least a century old. To one who could appreciate 
 such associations, how many suggestions of the Paris over 
 which Marie Antoinette reigned gayly as the fair young 
 Dauphiness, and of the romantic days of colonial New 
 France, dwelt in these tables with their curving legs, the 
 inlaid cabinets, the gilt-framed mirrors, the chairs with
 
 10 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 harmoniously faded wreaths of flowers upon the ivory satin 
 which covered their cushions, all reflected in a floor pol- 
 ished until it shone like a sheet of ice. 
 
 Strangely incongruous amid such surroundings was the 
 figure of the man gazing upon them typical of the least 
 admirable of modern conditions. No hint of anything de- 
 rived from or owing to ancestry was to be discerned in those 
 blunt plebeian features, sharpened only by an expression of 
 shrewd, hard cupidity. "A man of business," he would 
 have defined himself with pride ; and a man of business, 
 in the narrowest sense of that abused term he was, one for 
 whom the word '* business" covered not only stern bar- 
 gains ruthlessly driven, all advantage of others' necessities 
 taken, and every possible amount of usury that could be 
 exacted, but also all transactions, however dishonest, which 
 the letter of the law did not declare illegal. And yet this 
 man now stood as virtual master in a house where men of 
 another order had upheld in all the acts of their lives the 
 highest code of a fine and delicate honor, and, when the 
 necessity arose, had counted life and life's best possessions 
 as nothing for the sake of principle and a cause. 
 
 It was not long before, shaking off the influence which 
 had momentarily touched him, and which was chiefly due 
 to certain recollections of his youth connected with this 
 house, he walked with heavy tread across the floor, greet- 
 ing with a glance of recognition one or two portraits as he 
 passed them ; and, as if fearing to trust his weight to any 
 of the slim-legged chairs, stood by one of the windows, 
 looking out once more over the fair, level country. But 
 he was not at this instant thinking so much of the rich 
 acres before his gaze as of the unwise disdain that he had 
 read in a girl's dark eyes. 
 
 " In any case, whether my offer is accepted or not, your
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 11 
 
 reign is nearly over, my young lady," he was thinking, 
 with a sense of triumph. " D n your cursed aristo- 
 cratic pride ! I am glad that you are not the one who is 
 to stay here !" 
 
 The girl whom he thus addressed in his thoughts had 
 meanwhile crossed the hall and entered a smaller apart- 
 ment, the windows of which overlooked the green vistas of 
 the garden. It was the sitting-room of Madame Provost. 
 She was seated now before an open escritoire of finely carved 
 ebony, so old, so quaint, so charming that it would have de- 
 lighted an antiquarian ; and was engaged in writing a letter, 
 from which she did not lift her eyes when Yvonne entered. 
 
 So it was that for a minute the girl stood looking at her 
 silently, with an expression of infinitely wistful compas- 
 sion. In truth her heart was wrung with that sense of 
 unavailing pity which is one of the most painful of human 
 emotions. It was an emotion which even a stranger might, 
 in some degree, have felt for Madame Prevost, so plainly 
 were the marks of corroding care set upon her ; but to one 
 who loved her with passionate devotion, earth could fur- 
 nish no sight more sad than that delicate, worn counte- 
 nance, crowned by its hair prematurely gray. That she 
 had in her youth possessed a rare loveliness there was no 
 room to doubt. Any one familiar with the pictures of the 
 famous beauties of seventeenth and eighteenth century 
 France must have been struck by her resemblance to their 
 type. On a hundred canvases and squares of ivory we may 
 see those fine patrician features, those delicate brows, that 
 forehead of beautiful contour, those perfectly moulded out- 
 lines, and that slender neck which bore the head so loftily. 
 Upon how many of those fair necks the axe of the guillo- 
 tine fell ! But we do not read that one of them ever 
 drooped in craven fear.
 
 12 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Looking at Madame Prevost, it was easily to be perceived 
 that she, too, would have faced the mob howling for the 
 blood of aristocrats, the tumbril and the scaffold, with the 
 same proud composure, the same matchless dignity tem- 
 pered with disdain of those noble ladies of the ancien regime 
 whom she so strikingly resembled. She had indeed faced 
 in her youth scenes hardly less terrible. She had lost 
 father and brothers on the battle-field ; she had wedded 
 the lover of her choice in the midst of the roar of cannon, 
 the red horror and tumult of war ; and in the same hour 
 sent him back to his post in the front, not to meet again 
 until, when all was lost save honor, he returned to her, 
 ruined in fortune and broken in health. She had faced 
 then the last and perhaps worst enemy of all : the poverty 
 which entails perpetual struggle a struggle that, together 
 with his old wounds, had after a few years killed her hus- 
 band ; and which, when she had laid him away with the 
 comrades he had tardily joined, she continued to face for 
 her widowed, sonless mother and her four young daughters. 
 The signs of this struggle were graven in deep lines upon 
 a countenance still full of ineffaceable beauty and yet more 
 ineffaceable distinction, on which was also to be read the 
 impress of the courage, the fortitude, and the patience with 
 which she had met the misfortunes that had fallen upon 
 but never overwhelmed her. 
 
 Since a minute passed and she still continued to write 
 without lifting her eyes, Yvonne crossed the floor and 
 looked over her shoulder. She was not surprised to find 
 that her mother was addressing the man whom she had 
 just ushered into the house. 
 
 " Mamma," she said quickly, " there is no need to 
 write that letter. Mr. Burnham is here." 
 
 Madame Prevost started so violently that a blot of ink
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 13 
 
 dropped from her pen upon the fair sheet of paper half 
 covered with her small, regular writing. She turned and 
 looked up at her daughter with an expression of amazement. 
 
 " What do you say, Yvonne ?" she asked. " Mr. Burn- 
 ham here !" 
 
 " Yes, mamma, he is here. I came to tell you. I was 
 at the sugar-house when the steamer came by, and I saw 
 that it dropped some one at the landing. Since we were 
 expecting no one, I thought I had better see who had ar- 
 rived ; so I came over at once and met this man on the 
 lawn. He is in the drawing-room now, waiting for 
 you." 
 
 " Did you ask him why he had come ?" inquired Madame 
 Prevost, pushing aside her letter with hands which trem- 
 bled excessively. 
 
 ' ' No. I only asked him if you were expecting him, and 
 he replied that you were not ; that, business having called 
 him to Bayou Teche, he thought he would take advantage 
 of the opportunity to call and see you or something to 
 that effect. Courage, dear ! After all, it is no worse to 
 see him than to write to him." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is much worse !" said Madame Prevost, 
 rising to her feet. " His coming is a bad sign a very 
 bad sign, Yvonne !" 
 
 " Let us hope not, mamma. Perhaps it is only, as he 
 says, that he was in the neighborhood on other business, 
 and so thought a personal interview with you would be bet- 
 ter than an exchange of letters." 
 
 Madame Prevost shook her head. 
 
 " I doubt if he has any other business here than to see 
 me and the plantation," she said. "It looks badly, his 
 coming. There would be no necessity for an interview if 
 he were content to continue taking his interest ; but if he
 
 14 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 demands his money, Yvonne, the end has come. We are 
 ruined." 
 
 " Don't think that he will demand it until he tells you 
 so," said Yvonne, putting her arm around the slender, 
 trembling figure. " Mamma dearest, it is not like you to 
 be so unnerved. Shall I see him for you and ask what is 
 his business ?" 
 
 " No, no !" answered Madame Prevost. " I must see 
 him myself. It is foolish to be so unnerved ; but I think 
 my courage is not what it was, and I have been fearing this 
 so long." 
 
 " Ah, God help us !" cried the girl, with a passionate 
 intonation. " So long indeed ! Oh, what would I not do 
 to spare you all this horrible anxiety and suffering ! But 
 I can do nothing nothing ! And you must go and be tor- 
 tured for no fault of your own by this low-born usurer " 
 
 " Hush, hush, Yvonne !" Calm came back to Madame 
 Prevost at the sight of her daughter's excitement. ''Let 
 us never forget justice. The man has a right to demand 
 his money ; and if he shows little consideration and no 
 generosity in doing so, we must remember and allow for 
 the fact that he is low born and low bred. Perhaps, as 
 you say, I anticipate the worst without cause. We will 
 soon know, for I must see him at once. Do I look com- 
 posed ? I should not like to show any signs of agitation." 
 She held out her delicate hand and regarded it for an in- 
 stant. " Yes, it is quite steady again. So now I will go. 
 Do you stay here, dear ; and I will return as soon as possi- 
 ble to let you know the object and result of his visit. 
 Whatever it is, my child, we must meet it with courage, 
 you and I, for the sake of the others." 
 
 She kissed tenderly the wistful young face, smiled reas- 
 suringly, as long habit had taught her how to smile, and
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 15 
 
 left the room with a step as firm, a bearing as composed, 
 as if she were going to meet a friend instead of a foe, an 
 honor instead of a humiliation. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 IT was with the same bearing, the same composure of 
 manner and expression, that Madame Prevost entered the 
 fine old room, where the unwelcome guest still stood by one 
 of the windows, looking out upon the verdant levels of the 
 smiling country. She was half way across the polished 
 floor before, hearing her light step, he turned and advanced 
 to meet her. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Burnham ?" she said with grave 
 courtesy. " It was a surprise to me to hear from my 
 daughter that you were here, since I was on the point of 
 writing to you." 
 
 " So I supposed," replied Mr. Bnrnham, thinking bet- 
 ter of an idea of shaking hands which had crossed his mind 
 when he turned and advanced from the window. Now, as 
 of old, he felt himself overawed and ill at ease in the pres- 
 ence of this woman, whom he knew to be his debtor, but 
 whose graceful dignity was as unimpaired as if she had 
 been still the beautiful heiress whom he, the son of her 
 father's overseer, had once beheld across an impassable gulf. 
 The thought of that past time, of the great change in their 
 relative positions, was much more in his mind than in hers 
 as they sat down opposite each other. 
 
 So many changes had come to Madame Prevost that she 
 had ceased to be struck by surprise at any of the altered 
 conditions which surrounded her. The man now facing
 
 16 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 her was only a creditor, who held for the moment her fate 
 and that of her children in his hand. That she had known 
 him once as an uncouth boy, who owed his first chance in 
 life to her father's kindness, was a fact hardly present in 
 her thoughts ; but it was overwhelmingly present in Burn- 
 ham's. The success he had achieved meant more to him 
 here than anywhere else. Vividly present in his recollec- 
 tion was the envious bitterness with which in his 3 r outh he 
 had regarded this house and its inmates the gallant boys 
 who now filled soldiers' graves, and the radiant girl so far 
 above him ; and that he should find himself now in a posi- 
 tion to become the owner of the house and dictator of the 
 destiny of those within it was as sweet to him as gift of 
 fortune ever was to any man. 
 
 He had swelled with an almost rapturous sense of his 
 power as he approached the dwelling which was to him 
 what no other dwelling in Louisiana, nor in the world, 
 could be ; and this had been intensified rather than less- 
 ened by the latent scorn he had read in Yvonne's eyes and 
 manner. But now, confronted by Madame Prevost, her 
 aspect still full of the distinction which impresses even the 
 vulgar, and her manner unchanged in its gracious though 
 formal courtesy, he felt himself sink again into the place 
 and stature which had been his originally. It was the 
 effort to overcome this feeling, to assert the rights of his 
 changed position, which, after he had taken the chair 'that 
 a motion of the lady's hand indicated, made him say with 
 more abruptness of tone and manner than he had intended : 
 
 " I understand, of course, that you were about to write 
 concerning the payment of your note to me." 
 
 " Concerning the note, yes," answered Madame Pre- 
 vost. " I was about to write and inquire if you would not 
 be satisfied for a little longer with the payment of the
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 17 
 
 interest, since I have not yet been able to arrange to meet 
 the debt." 
 
 " Hum !" said Mr. Burnham, looking down lest his eyes 
 might betray that this was what he had desired as well as 
 expected to hear. " I am afraid I have given as much 
 time as I can, although I'm sorry to disoblige you. But 
 I have need of my money ; and business is business, you 
 know." 
 
 " I know it very well," replied Madame Preyost quietly ; 
 " and ask nothing but what is business-like. I am paying 
 an interest on the money which is surely as high as you 
 could obtain from any other investment, and therefore I 
 supposed that it would not inconvenience you to let the 
 note run a little longer." 
 
 "How much longer?" asked Burnham, the roughness 
 of his tone being an echo of the resentfulness with which 
 he recognized that, in her definition of what was business- 
 like, she made it clear that she had no intention of asking 
 a favor. 
 
 " That I cannot exactly say," the lady answered. " I 
 can only assure you that I am anxious to pay the money as 
 soon as I possibly can. Meanwhile the interest 
 
 " You are mistaken about the interest," he interrupted. 
 " It is by no means as high as I could obtain by many other 
 investments, which are continually offering themselves to 
 me. I could have placed the money twice as advantageous- 
 ly several times lately if 1 had been able to command it ; 
 but I disliked to press you. I ' he hesitated " I don't 
 forget my early connection with your family." 
 
 The lady bent her head slightly in acknowledgment of 
 the remark. Nothing was farther from her gentle spirit 
 or her noble manners than any touch of arrogance ; but, 
 in his uneasy consciousness of inferiority, Burnham thought
 
 18 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 that he read it in that gesture. His face flushed, his voice 
 took a rougher tone, as he went on : 
 
 /' I don't forget either what that connection was. I owe 
 something to your father, who helped to educate me ; and 
 I've paid it by keeping a roof over the heads of his daugh- 
 ter and his grandchildren. The overseer's son wasn't good 
 enough to be your friend or associate in the old days ; but 
 it's doubtful if any of those who were would have invested 
 their money here to oblige you, as I have done." 
 
 His listener lifted her eyes and looked at him with a 
 glance in which there was more wonder than disdain. In 
 truth, there is to a lofty soul inexhaustible food for won- 
 der in the brutalities of which a coarse nature is capable ; 
 a wonder which sometimes merges into compassion for 
 those who are separated by so wide a gulf the gulf of ab- 
 solute non-comprehension from things noble, generous 
 and refined. Something of this feeling made Madame 
 Pre vest's tone still courteous, although very cold, when 
 she spoke : 
 
 " The old friends to whom you have alluded are not only 
 now very few, but are not in a position to help others, as 
 you must know well. Were it otherwise, I should not need 
 to be your debtor, although I cannot acknowledge that by 
 lending some money and receiving a very high rate of in- 
 terest upon it, you have ' kept a roof over the heads ' of 
 my children and myself." 
 
 " No," he responded, with increasing insolence of de- 
 meanor, " I don't suppose you would acknowledge it if I 
 had given you the money without any interest. It would 
 lower your pride to be under an obligation to me." 
 
 " There is, happily, no question of an obligation," ob- 
 served Madame Prevost calmly. " You have lent me 
 money on ample security, and I have paid you the highest
 
 T11E MAK OF THE FAMILY. 19 
 
 interest you could possibly obtain. It is therefore a busi- 
 ness transaction, out of which we will, if you please, leave 
 all personal discussion." 
 
 " I suppose, then, you are ready to close this business 
 transaction by paying my money ?" 
 
 "On the contrary, I have already told you that I am not 
 ready to do so, and shall be glad if you will be satisfied 
 with the interest for let us say, a year longer." 
 
 He smiled sardonically. 
 
 " And there's no obligation in that oh, no ! I'm to be 
 out of my money so much longer, and see good investments 
 lost to me for want of it ; but I must be satisfied with my 
 interest and the honor of lending money to Madame Pre- 
 vost, and expect no gratitude from her for a favor. 1 ' 
 
 " Mr. Burnham," said that lady, rising from her chair, 
 " I see that it is useless to prolong this conversation. I 
 am loath to think that you have come here to a roof 
 under which you never received anything save kindness 
 in order to insult me. I prefer to believe that you are not 
 aware of the offensiveness of your manner and speech. 
 But our business ends here. My note is due to you in a 
 few days. To-morrow I will go to New Orleans to see my 
 lawyer, and he will communicate with you regarding it. I 
 now wish you good-day. ' ' 
 
 She stood waiting for him to leave ; but, instead of ac- 
 cepting the dismissal he had brought upon himself, Burn- 
 ham remained motionless, staring up at her. No sign of 
 passion ruffled the dignity of her aspect, but there was a 
 look on her face that recalled the father and brothers 
 whose shades might almost have risen to cast him from 
 her presence ; and, with a sudden sense of shame, he felt 
 that he had justified the scorn which his uneasy soul had 
 always suspected, and which he now plainly read in her
 
 20 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 glance and on her lips. Consternation, too, seized him ; 
 for this was not the end he had wished to bring about. 
 Nothing was farther from his desire than to be forced to 
 relax his hold on a property which he coveted with his 
 whole soul. Madame Prevost was right in saying that, 
 though he had indeed meant to be offensive, he was not 
 aware of the extent of his offensiveness. He had been led 
 away by the opportunity to utter thoughts whicli had long 
 rankled within him ; and in giving himself this gratifica- 
 tion he had counted, as an ignoble nature always counts, 
 on the power he possessed, on the apparently absolute cer- 
 tainty that a woman who owed him money which she could 
 not pay would not dare to resent whatever he chose to say. 
 Confronted now with the consequences of his mistake, he 
 murmured a few words of hurried apology. 
 
 " Sorry to have offended you ! Hadn't the least inten- 
 tion of anything of the sort," he protested. " Pray sit 
 down again, Madame. We haven't even begun to talk of 
 the business that brought me here." 
 
 Madame Prevost did not sit down again, but she regard- 
 ed him with a look of surprise in which a questioning was 
 mingled. 
 
 " We have talked," she said, " of the only business 
 which we possess in common. I am at a loss to imagine 
 what else you can have to say to me." 
 
 " I have a good deal to say if yon will sit down and listen 
 to me," he continued. " In the first place, since it is not 
 convenient for you to meet the note at present, I'm willing 
 that the payment should be deferred a few months longer. " 
 
 Madame Prevost sank back into her chair. Who can 
 blame her ? The reprieve meant much to her ; and for the 
 sake of those " others" of whom she had spoken to Yvonne, 
 no sacrifice was too great not even the sacrifice of accept-
 
 TI1K MAX OF THE FAMILY. 21 
 
 ing a favor from this obnoxious man. But in resuming her 
 seat she did not change the cold reserve of her manner. 
 
 " I understood you to say " she began. 
 
 " You understood me to say that I wanted the money 
 for better investment," he interposed. " But if you can- 
 not pay it, I must do without it a little longer, that's all. 
 I'm a plain man and a little rough in my ways ; but I 
 meant no offence when I said that I did not forget what 
 your father had done for me, and that perhaps I had been 
 able to do for you what none of your fine friends of the days 
 when I was only the overseer's son would have done. How- 
 ever, we'll let that pass ; only I am glad it's fallen to me 
 to help you when you needed help. And it's my desire 
 to help you still further : to to arrange matters so that 
 this property may remain always in your family." 
 
 Madame Prevost looked at him with growing astonish- 
 ment as he stumbled through these sentences. Was it pos- 
 sible that she had, after all, misjudged the man ; and that 
 under his apparent brutality there was really some spark 
 of generosity, of grateful remembrance of the past ? 
 
 " I think," she said, after a moment's reflection, " that 
 it will be necessary for you to explain yourself further." 
 
 " That is what I'm about to do," he answered. But it 
 was evidently not an easy task. He hesitated again, cleared 
 his throat, drew out a handkerchief with which he wiped 
 his forehead, and then, clinching it tightly in his large 
 hand, went on with what seemed an abrupt change of sub- 
 ject : " Has your second daughter Miss Diane, I think 
 you call her ever mentioned to you that when she was in 
 New Orleans last spring she met my son ?" 
 
 " Never," replied Madame Prevost, with an unmoved 
 countenance ; although an instinct of what was coming 
 flashed upon her.
 
 22 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY 
 
 ' ' Ah !" said Mr. Burnham, ' ' that is the way with young 
 people. They seldom mention these things to their par- 
 ents. Well, Miss Diane did meet my son, and he was very 
 much taken with her. What she thought of him I don't 
 know ; but there's no reason why she shouldn't think 
 well of him ; and the upshot of the matter is that I've 
 come here to propose to you that we arrange a marriage 
 between them that's the way your old French families 
 manage things, I know. And then I'll hand over your 
 note and the mortgage, with the understanding that you 
 are not to be disturbed as long as you live, and that the 
 place is to go to Miss Diane at your death. In this way 
 you'll be relieved of your debt and the estate will remain in 
 your family, since one of your daughters will be the owner 
 of it, together with my son." 
 
 There was a moment's silence after his voice ceased a 
 moment in which Madame Prevost felt as if she were suffo- 
 cating. It is not too much to say that in all her long strug- 
 gle with misfortune the hardships of fate had never seemed 
 to her so cruel as at this instant, when she had been forced 
 to listen to a proposal to barter her daughter for the dis- 
 charge of a debt. A passionate sense of the indignity 
 offered, the deep humiliation involved in such a proposal, 
 overwhelmed her as she had never been overwhelmed be 
 fore. Every drop of blood in her veins seemed on fire, and 
 for once all gentleness left her. Those who knew her best 
 would hardly have recognized her in the lady who rose 
 with an air so haughty, and whose glance rebuked the pre- 
 sumption before her voice spoke. 
 
 " It would have been better,' ' she said, clearly and proud- 
 ly, " if you had ended this interview as I desired, a few min- 
 utes ago. I should have been spared an insult, and you 
 would have been spared hearing that money difficulties
 
 THE MAN OF THE PAMILY. 23 
 
 have not driven me to entertain the thought of selling my 
 daughter. ' ' 
 
 The color rushed in a dull, red flood over Burnham's 
 face. Her tone cut like a whip, and again he felt himself 
 at fault and despised. This time he too rose to his feet 
 and stood facing her. 
 
 ' ' If you think it an insult that I should speak of a mar- 
 riage between your daughter and my son " he began. 
 
 But she stopped him by a gesture. 
 "I think," she said, in the same cool, clear accents, 
 " that you have made a mistake which need go no further. 
 Let me repeat that you will hear from my lawyer, and that 
 there is nothing to detain you longer." 
 
 " You are not afraid to turn me out of your house in 
 such a way as this the house which is as good as my 
 own?" he demanded. "You had better stop, I think, 
 Madame Prevost. I know your pride who should know 
 it better? but pride will make a poor shelter for you 
 when I foreclose my mortgage, as I surely will if I go out 
 at your bidding now, Look here ! It is really I who have 
 been insulted by the manner in which you have seen fit to 
 take a very liberal offer. But I know the ideas in which 
 you've been brought up ideas that are out of date now, I 
 can tell you ; and I'm willing to give you a little time to 
 consider and consult with Miss Diane. She's a young lady 
 who knows the world ; and, from what my son tells me, I 
 think you'll find that she looks at the matter rather differ- 
 ently from yourself. ' ' 
 
 " Do you mean to imply that my daughter has given 
 your son any encouragement to offer himself in this man- 
 ner ?" asked Madame Prevost haughtily. 
 
 " He believes that she has, at any rate, or he wouldn't 
 do it ; for Jack thinks very well of himself," said Burn-
 
 24 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ham, with a meaning nod. " Take my advice and consult 
 with Miss Diane." 
 
 A horrible fear seized Madame Prevost. Could that 
 which he implied possibly be true ? Could Diane, her beau- 
 tiful Diane, have given encouragement to the pretensions 
 of the son of this atrocious creature ? She had known of 
 such things, of women who had so stooped, so degraded 
 themselves ; but that Diane was capable of it was incred- 
 ible to her. And yet 
 
 He saw her hesitation, and pressed his advantage. 
 
 " You had better take time to consider," he repeated. 
 " It won't make much difference to me whether you agree 
 or not, for the place is bound to be mine in any event ; but 
 I'd like to gratify my son, and I should think you'd like to 
 know that your daughter will be mistress of it after you 
 are gone. Besides, it would certainly kill the old lady to 
 leave here. You ought to think of her. Old people can't 
 stand changes." 
 
 Madame Prevost turned white. With an unconscious 
 seeking for support, she put out her hand and grasped the 
 back of the chair in which she had been sitting. Her 
 mother ! It was true what this man said : to be forced 
 from her lifelong home would surely kill her. Was it not 
 well, then, to take the time offered to temporize, to treat 
 this proposal with such form of respect as would at least 
 not exasperate the father and son who made it, and in 
 whose hands such power rested ? Never had bitterer cup 
 been held to her lips, but the painful schooling of adversity 
 told. She recognized that she could not allow herself to 
 resent this indignity as she longed to do, and after a short 
 struggle answered : 
 
 " I will refer your son's proposal to my daughter. I am 
 sure that his hopes have misled him, and that she has
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 25 
 
 never possibly given him any encouragement ; but it is best 
 that she should speak for herself. I will let you hear from 
 me on the subject." 
 
 " I think you'll find it all right ; my son's not likely to 
 be mistaken," Burnham replied, with an air of offensive 
 confidence. And then, feeling that he should make some 
 concession on his side, as paving the way for a more cor- 
 dial understanding, he added : " Meanwhile, you can send 
 the interest on the note for three months longer. By the 
 end of that time I hope matters will be satisfactorily set- 
 tled. And now I'll bid you good- day." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AFTEK Madame Prevost left the little sitting-room, 
 Yvonne remained for a moment motionless, listening to 
 the sound of her footsteps as they crossed the hall. When 
 the closing of the drawing-room door told that she had en- 
 tered upon the dreaded interview, the girl turned with a 
 deep sigh, and seated herself in the chair which her mother 
 had vacated before the open escritoire. 
 
 She had now laid aside the broad' shade hat, and her 
 countenance was fully revealed in the strong light pouring 
 upon her from the open window, through which she ab- 
 sently gazed. It was a countenance in which were per- 
 ceptible inherited traces of the mother's beauty, but much 
 modified, less delicate, more forceful. In fact, there was 
 in the face a touch of masculine vigor, which often caused 
 people to say that Yvonne Prevost would have made a 
 handsome boy, although she was not a remarkably pretty 
 girl, judged at least by the standard of the rest of her fam-
 
 26 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ily. The hazel eyes, which were her greatest beauty, were 
 like those of a boy in their frank, open, fearless expres- 
 sion ; and so were her resolute mouth and chin ; while the 
 peculiarly refined loveliness for which her mother and 
 grandmother had each in her generation been famous 
 showed itself in the delicacy of the upper portion of her 
 face. Her complexion was a clear brunette ; and her dark- 
 brown hair, cut short around her brow, added, by its care- 
 less picturesqueness of tossed and tumbled locks, to her 
 boyish look. 
 
 Indeed Mr. Burnham was not the only person who spoke 
 jestingly of Yvonne as " the man of the family," while to 
 the girl herself it was a fact in which there was no jest. 
 From her earliest youth it had in great measure fallen upon 
 her to supply the masculine element that is, the element 
 upon which others depend in a family altogether femi- 
 nine. She had for years been her mother's sole confidante 
 and counsellor in the difficulties which continually beset 
 them, and with which they never troubled either the grand- 
 mother, who knew only the traditions of a luxurious past 
 and the memories of her sorrows, or the three girls younger 
 than Yvonne, to whom they were equally anxious to secure 
 as far as possible a youth unclouded by the shadow of such 
 stern cares as it was their part to meet and wrestle with. 
 
 And from being confidante and counsellor, Yvonne had 
 advanced to the office of practical assistant, to taking the 
 place which would have been hers had she been born a sou 
 instead of a daughter of the house. In an almost literal 
 sense she put her hand to the plough, and spared her 
 mother the expense of a manager by looking after the en- 
 tire management of the plantation herself, with the assist- 
 ance of an old servant of the family, intelligent and devot- 
 ed to their interests. Friends stared, wondered, remon-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 27 
 
 strated ; for on all Bayou Teche such a thing had never 
 been known before as a girl who superintended the work 
 of a plantation going herself into the fields and the sugar- 
 house, and having as keen an eye for every detail as if she 
 had been a man. But no one could say that the result was 
 not good, the work not well done, the plantation not better 
 cultivated than it had been since the war. Yvonne troubled 
 herself with no theories of what was or what was not a 
 woman's proper sphere ; she simply accepted the task laid 
 before her, however unusual in its nature, as unnumbered 
 women have done through all the ages, before ever the 
 clamor arose for woman's rights ; and proved her right to 
 assume the work by fitly discharging it. 
 
 And there is in work conscientiously undertaken and 
 honestly performed such power to interest and satisfy that 
 the girl would have been happy in her labor, in the modest 
 consciousness of success, and the growing hope of making 
 life brighter by her exertions for those so dear to her, but 
 for seeing the burden of care which she could not lessen 
 constantly weighing upon and visibly aging her mother. 
 Always more or less the case, this was especially so at times 
 of acute crisis like the present. The heavy debt which her 
 father had been compelled to lay upon the war-desolated 
 plantation rested like an incubus upon them ; and as she 
 looked out now over the green old garden, with its hedges 
 of roses and groves of orange and fig, she was steadily fac- 
 ing the fact that there was scarcely more hope of paying it 
 now than there had been ten years before. The only hope, 
 if Burnham demanded his money, was to find some one 
 else willing to lend the same amount for the same security 
 and interest. But what respite was there in that ? Sadly 
 she shook her head. 
 
 " Oh, to be free from this intolerable slavery of debt !"
 
 28 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 she thought. " I would walk barefoot around the world if 
 I might, by so doing, find the means to set us free, and 
 relieve poor mamma before this misery ends by killing 
 her." 
 
 But those who have known much trouble learn, if they 
 are wise, one thing never to brood upon it. That way 
 madness lies ; and not only madness, but all the lesser evils 
 of embittered natures, ruined tempers, lessened energies, 
 and the melancholy that destroys. Young as she was, 
 Yvonne had learned this lesson. With an effort she threw 
 off the thoughts that clamored about her like a pack of 
 hounds ; and seeking, as long habit had taught her, some 
 distraction for her mind, she turned to the open desk be- 
 side her. 
 
 " While I am waiting I may as well look for those papers 
 mamma wants," she said to herself ; and from the pigeon- 
 holes filled with letters and documents she began to take 
 out one bundle after another (most of them yellow with 
 age and tied together with bands of faded tape), and to 
 read the endorsements written upon each in various old 
 fashioned handwritings. The papers of which she was in 
 search were presently found and laid aside. But since Ma- 
 dame Prevost did not come, and it was necessary to con- 
 tinue to divert her mind as far as possible from the consid- 
 eration of what was passing in the dreaded interview, 
 Yvonne went on half-absently, taking out and examining 
 documents, many of which had been untouched for years. 
 It was indeed a very slight degree of attention which she 
 bestowed upon them listening the while for the sound of 
 an opening door, of voices, steps until suddenly, having 
 pulled out a drawer which slightly resisted her touch, as if 
 long unopened, she found a package of particularly time- 
 yellowed papers, on which was written in the handwriting
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 29 
 
 of her great-grandfather, " Titles of estates in Santo Do- 
 mingo. H. de Marsillac." 
 
 She started then, with new interest ; for here were the 
 records of a page in the family history with regard to which 
 she had never been able to obtain the degree of information 
 she desired. She knew that her great-great-grandfather 
 had been the sole representative of a family of refugees 
 from Santo Domingo, who, like most of the survivors of 
 the massacre which followed the uprising of the slaves in 
 1 791, had fled to Louisiana ; but beyond that fact she had 
 been able to learn very little. Everything available con- 
 cerning the history of the colony, as well as of the great 
 wave of bloodshed and horror which had whelmed it in 
 ruin, she had read with avidity ; but this did not satisfy 
 her wish for more personal information. So it was with' a 
 sense of interest, which made her for the moment forget 
 her preoccupation, that she looked at the papers in her 
 hand, tangible links with that far-away past, that chapter 
 which, for her family as for others, had closed so tragically. 
 
 " I wonder nobody ever told me that these papers were 
 here," she thought. " I suppose they were long since for- 
 gotten. Probably no one has ever looked at or touched 
 them since my great-grandfather laid them away. Well, 
 they will give a local habitation at least to the fancies I 
 have always woven about the place, the time, and the peo- 
 ple. As soon as I have time I shall look over them, and 
 Ah, there is mamma at last !" 
 
 Her quick ear had caught the sound of Burnham's exit, 
 of Madame Prevost's last formal words in the hall, and 
 then of the step which came slowly towards the sitting- 
 room. She thrust the package of papers back into their 
 drawer, and, rising, turned eagerly to greet her mother as 
 she entered. " Well ?" she said quickly ; but even the
 
 30 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 monosyllable died away half uttered on her lips as she saw 
 the face with which, all need for self-control gone now, 
 Madame Prevost met her. 
 
 "Mamma !" and the girl sprang forward, " What is 
 it ? What has that man said to you ?" 
 
 Madame Prevost laid her hand on the young shoulder, 
 as if on a welcome support, and so stood for an instant. 
 Then she answered quietly : 
 
 " Only what we feared, Yvonne. He wants his money 
 at once, if possible ; if not, within three months." 
 
 " It is more than I should have expected of him to give 
 even so much grace," said Yvonne. " Sit down, mamma, 
 and do not look so heart-stricken. Within three months 
 we can at least find another creditor, and so frustrate his 
 intention of finally possessing the place." 
 
 " The amount is so large that I fear it will be almost im- 
 possible to find any one else to lend it to us," said Madame 
 Prevost. " Mr. Clarke has never encouraged me to hope 
 so. And I am not sure even of the three months. He 
 yielded that only because I, on my side, yielded something 
 which 1 am ashamed to tell you." 
 
 "Ashamed! you, mamma!" The girl knelt down 
 beside the chair into which her mother had sunk, and soft- 
 ly stroked the hand which lay in her own. " As if it were 
 possible that you could ever do anything of which you 
 would have need to be ashamed !" 
 
 " Yvonne" Madame Prevost suddenly sat upright and 
 spoke with energy " has Diane ever mentioned to you 
 that when she was in New Orleans last spring she met this 
 man's son?" 
 
 " Burnham's son?" asked the young girl, in surprise. 
 " Certainly not. I never heard before that such a person 
 existed/'
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 31 
 
 "But he does exist," replied Madame PreVost ; "and 
 he met Diane, and how can I say it ! he proposes to 
 marry her, and the father proposes that I shall pay my 
 debt with my daughter." 
 
 " Mamma, you are not in earnest !" 
 
 "Yes, terribly in earnest, my child. It sounds like a 
 melodrama, but it is exactly the proposal to which I have 
 listened. And, being assured by Mr. Burnham that his 
 son has reason to believe that his suit will be favorably re- 
 ceived by Diane, I have agreed to consider the proposal far 
 enough to consult her with regard to it." 
 
 Yvonne looked at her mother with eyes full of compas- 
 sion. 
 
 " It was even worse for you than I feared," she said, in 
 a low tone. " I could never have imagined anything like 
 this. But while it is plain that we must face the worst as 
 far as the debt is concerned, you do not think it possible 
 that Diane " 
 
 " No," said Madame Prevost as she paused, " I cannot 
 believe it possible that Diane has given this man the war- 
 rant for his presumption which he asserts. But do you 
 wonder that I feel degraded in my own eyes, as if I had 
 sunk low indeed, in even considering such a proposal ? 
 Yet to refuse that was to bring ruin upon us at once ; and 
 I was not brave enough to face that, Yvonne." 
 
 " Mamma," cried the girl, " how can you blame your- 
 self ? What else could you do ? As if he did not know 
 well the despicable creature ! that he had to deal only 
 with a woman helplessly in his power ! Do you think he 
 would have ventured to make such a proposal to a man ? 
 He would have known that he would have been flung out 
 of the house and, oh, that I had been a man to do it !" 
 
 " There are some things certainly for which men are use-
 
 32 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 fill," said Madame Prevost, in a faintly whimsical tone. 
 " But let us not waste our energy in futile anger, chene. 
 Go and tell Diane that I wish to speak to her." 
 
 " Not at once, darling ! Give yourself time to recover 
 from what you have just passed through." 
 
 "On the contrary, Yvonne, I must know at once I can- 
 not have a moment's peace until I do know what Diane 
 will think of this. Go and bring her quickly." 
 
 " Shall I return with her?" 
 
 " Certainly. This is no secret. It concerns us all, and 
 every one will soon know the result." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LEAVING the sitting-room to do her mother's bidding, 
 Yvonne crossed the hall, and, running lightly up the wide, 
 shallow, and dangerously polished steps of the great, curv- 
 ing staircase, reached the second floor, where, passing noise- 
 lessly by the door of the chamber in which her grandmother 
 was taking her siesta, she entered another chamber con- 
 taining two white-draped single beds, which indicated a 
 double occupancy. It was the chamber shared by herself 
 and Diane ; and, while large and lofty as all the apartmen ts 
 of the mansion were, was sparingly furnished with the same 
 quaint, old-fashioned furniture which, with scarcely any 
 modern additions, filled the rest of the house. 
 
 And seated at this moment before a Louis-Seize toilet- 
 table was a girl who, from her appearance, might have been 
 one of the gay group who played at blind-man's-buff with 
 Louise de la Valliere on the tapis-vert of Versailles ; or 
 one of those who shared the rural simplicity of the Petit
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 33 
 
 Trianon with Marie Antoinette. For if the peculiar revival 
 or survival of a type which made Madame Prevost so " like 
 an old picture," as people always said, was only slightly to 
 be perceived in the personal appearance of Yvonne, it was 
 strikingly reproduced in Diane, the second daughter and 
 beauty of the family. Like her mother, she resembled not 
 so much the Frenchwomen of to-day as those women of the 
 past, whose charms have been resolved into dust for nigh 
 upon two centuries. Here in undimmed freshness were all 
 the traits which the countenance of Madame Prevost now 
 only suggested the curling tresses of sunny hair straying 
 lightly across the fair forehead ; the brows delicately arched 
 over eyes sometimes tender, sometimes sparkling, but al- 
 ways full of possibilities of disdain ; the lips which well 
 deserved the old simile of Cupid's bow ; the exquisitely 
 rounded cheek and chin ; the complexion of lilies and 
 roses. 
 
 No wonder that Diane had made a sensation when she 
 entered society for the first time the winter before in New 
 Orleans ; or that the grandson of her grandfather's over- 
 seer, struck by her patrician loveliness, conceived the idea 
 of reaching at a single bound the social height towards 
 which he painfully toiled, by an alliance so desirable from 
 every point of view save that of the money which he had 
 no need to consider. Yet so much wisdom had he learned 
 in the course of his struggles for social recognition that he 
 made no attempt to approach Diane in the character of a 
 suitor while she was shining in those elevated regions, 
 where he was barely tolerated ; but, patiently biding his 
 time and keeping in mind her beauty and distinction, he 
 waited until the moment was ripe for proposing to unite 
 his father's ambition and his own. 
 
 As Yvonne entered, her sister looked around with a
 
 34 THE MAN OP THE FAMILY. 
 
 smile. She had just finished arranging her hair, and was 
 contemplating the result with satisfaction. 
 
 " How do you like this Psyche coiffure, Yvonne ?" she 
 asked. " I think it is very becoming. Look at the effect 
 in profile." 
 
 She turned her graceful head than which Psyche's own 
 could not have been more charming as she spoke. At 
 another time Yvonne would have appreciated the effect as 
 much as herself, for she was the first and foremost of 
 Diane's admirers ; but just now she gave only an indiffer- 
 ent glance at the coiffure as she replied : 
 
 " It is very pretty. But I haven't time to admire it just 
 now, Diane. Mamma has sent me for you. She wishes to 
 speak to you." 
 
 " What about ?" asked Diane, with some surprise ; for 
 such a summons was unusual. 
 
 Yvonne hesitated an instant. Then she answered the 
 question by another : 
 
 " Diane, when you were in New Orleans last winter did 
 you meet a man named Burnham a son of the Burnham 
 to whom, as you know, mamma is in debt ?" 
 
 "Burnham !" repeated Diane, opening her pretty eyes 
 a little wider in growing astonishment and the effort to re- 
 member. "It is likely that I may have met him, but I 
 don't recall him at all. Why do you ask ?" 
 
 Yvonne uttered a low, unmirthful laugh as she an- 
 swered : 
 
 " Because you made so deep an impression upon him that 
 he has sent his father to make a proposal for you." 
 
 " For me ! A proposal of " 
 
 " Of marriage yes." 
 
 ' Yvonne, you are surely jesting !" 
 
 "Jesting!" Yvonne's dark eyes gave a flash. "Do
 
 THE MAif OF THE FAMILY. 35 
 
 you think I would jest on the subject of a proposal from 
 such a person ?" 
 
 " But it is so astonishing !" said Diane, leaning back in 
 her chair and regarding her sister. " I am not sure that I 
 ever saw the man I certainly don't recall him ; and that 
 he should have seen me, and been sufficiently impressed to 
 make a proposal months after the meeting, is almost in- 
 credible, you will admit." 
 
 " It would not be incredible if he had never seen you," 
 replied Yvonne ; " for although he must have admired 
 you, as every one who sees you does, there is more in the 
 proposal than admiration for you : there is a question of 
 But never mind that just now. Come to mamma, who 
 wishes to speak to you before replying to this insult." 
 
 "I should not call it an insult," observed Diane dis- 
 passionately, as she rose. "It is a presumption, per- 
 haps 
 
 " How great a presumption you don't understand," 
 Yvonne interposed, impetuously. " This man, whom you 
 cannot even recall as an acquaintance, asserts that he re- 
 ceived encouragement from you which leads him to confi- 
 dently expect a favorable answer to his proposal." 
 
 " That is most extraordinary," said Diane. " Let me 
 think if I cannot recollect him." She paused in an atti- 
 tude of consideration, her finger pressed to her lip. Then 
 suddenly she looked up and laughed. " Why, certainly I 
 do !" she exclaimed. " I met him at one of the Mardi 
 Gras balls, and later once or twice at some large entertain- 
 ment. He is one of the people who are not exactly in so- 
 ciety, you know only on the outskirts. I had forgotten 
 all about him ; but I do remember now that, as far as could 
 be observed on such a limited acquaintance, he seemed 
 rather smitten by my charms. But that was not sufficient-
 
 36 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ly uncommon to be remarkable," added Diane, with frank- 
 ness. 
 
 " Then that accounts for the matter," said Yvonne. " I 
 know how you treat people how you smile in every man's 
 face, no matter how insignificant or even odious he may be, 
 as if he possesses your most favorable regard ; and how they 
 all believe that you mean something by it, not knowing that 
 you forget them as soon as they are out of your sight." 
 
 " But if I do," said Diane, " that is no reason why I 
 should not be pleasant to them while they are in my sight. 
 In fact, I don't know how to be anything else." 
 
 " That is true," replied Yvonne, recognizing the perfect 
 sincerity and simplicity of this assertion. " You really 
 don't know how to be anything else, so I suppose one 
 should not blame you. But come ; we must not keep 
 mamma waiting longer." 
 
 They left the chamber together, and ran down-stairs to 
 the sitting-room, where they found Madame Prevost pac- 
 ing up and down the floor. She paused at their entrance, 
 and looked first keenly at Diane, then interrogatively at 
 Yvonne. 
 
 " It is as we supposed, mamma," the latter said in reply 
 to the look. " Diane is barely able to recall having met 
 the man, and of course gave him no ground for the pre- 
 sumptuous confidence he has expressed." 
 
 Madame Prevost breathed a low sigh of relief, then an 
 swered : 
 
 " I did not think that Diane could possibly have encour- 
 aged him as his father represented, but I feared there 
 might be some ground for misapprehension." 
 
 "I never dreamed of encouraging him," Diane said 
 quietly. " Such an idea is, of course, quite absurd. But 
 perhaps he was foolish enough to think that I did, As
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 37 
 
 Yvonne was saying a moment ago, it may be that my man- 
 ner is sometimes misleading though I'm sure I haven't 
 the least intention of making it so and an underbred man 
 does not always understand these things." 
 
 " Of course he does not," said Madame Prevost ; " and 
 it is something you will do well to remember. You can- 
 not treat an underbred man with ease and informality. He 
 is certain to presume upon it, as this man has presumed." 
 
 "But there will at least be no difficulty in answering 
 him, mamma," said Diane, with unruffled calmness. 
 " You need only present your compliments to his father 
 and decline the honor of the proposed alliance. It was 
 hardly necessary to send for me for so simple a thing as 
 that." 
 
 Madame Prevost looked again at her eldest daughter, as 
 if inquiring whether she might not accept this decision as 
 final, and not trouble Diane with any consideration of the 
 consequences which would flow from the refusal thus un- 
 equivocally stated. There seemed no reason why she 
 should be troubled, since the last thing either of them de- 
 sired was that she should give any other answer. But, 
 with her love of frankness, Yvonne answered the look by 
 saying : 
 
 " I think Diane should know everything, mamma. I 
 have no fear of her changing her mind." 
 
 " Neither have I," said Madame Prevost, " but is there 
 need to pain her by a knowledge of difficulties which can- 
 not be averted ? However, it is perhaps better that she 
 should understand the situation. Sit down, my dear" 
 (this to Diane), " and I will explain to you the whole 
 matter." 
 
 She sat down herself as she spoke ; and Diane, with a 
 surprised expression, threw herself in a careless attitude
 
 38 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 on a chintz-covered lounge, and drew Yvonne down beside 
 her. 
 
 " Come, counsellor," she said, smiling. " Nothing can 
 be decided without your help, although it does not seem 
 to me that there can be anything further to decide in this 
 case." 
 
 " Not to decide of that I am sure but to know," said 
 her mother. " Briefly, then, my dear : what Mr. Burn- 
 ham came here to propose to me was this that a marriage 
 should be arranged (in the fashion of our old French fami- 
 lies, he was good enough to say) between you and his son, 
 for and in consideration of which he would cancel my debt 
 to him, and I should be left undisturbed in possession of 
 this place for the term of my life, with the condition that 
 it would pass to you and his son at my death. In other 
 words, he proposed that I should pay my debt which he 
 had already satisfied himself that I could not meet by 
 selling you. I answered, as you may imagine, by request- 
 ing him to leave the house. But then, Diane, he asserted 
 that his son had reason to be hopeful of a favorable reply 
 from you, and insisted that I should at least refer the oifer 
 to you. It was a bitter humiliation to me to entertain it 
 even for the length of time necessary to observe such a 
 form ; but much depended on my making this concession, 
 and so I agreed to do so, and leave the decision to you. 
 Thank God you are able to tell me that the man's pre- 
 sumptuous hopes had no foundation." 
 
 " Not the very least," replied Diane, with unmoved 
 quietness, " as far as they rested on anything that occurred 
 in our very slight acquaintance. But he probably reckoned 
 on something else, mamma on the possibility that I might 
 be willing to do even this to help you." 
 
 " Diane !"
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 39 
 
 . It was a simultaneous cry from mother and sister a cry 
 of astonishment, of appeal, of something like fright. 
 Diane in reply looked from one to the other. 
 
 " Why not ?" she asked, still quietly. " Since I can do 
 nothing else, why should I not do this ?" 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THERE was a moment of silence, so much were Madame 
 Prevost and Yvonne confounded by Diane's unexpected 
 question. Then her mother answered, in grave tones : 
 
 " Because, my dear, there are some things which cannot 
 even be taken into consideration. And this is one of them. 
 Not to save Beaulieu not to save our lives if it came to 
 that would I consent to such a sacrifice. Perhaps the 
 man did count on this generous impulse on your part ; and 
 thought, too, that I might play the role of the parent 
 who makes such bargains. But he has only shown his in- 
 capacity to understand anything elevated in character or 
 motive, and we need not consider him further. There only 
 remains to decline his proposal, and forget it as soon as 
 we can." 
 
 But Diane shook her Psyche-like head. 
 
 " I cannot consent to that, mamma," she said. " The 
 proposal is made to me, and I have a right to accept it. It 
 will be my act." 
 
 " Your act but, Diane, you are mad ! I will not per- 
 mit it." 
 
 Diane smiled. " Oh, yes, you will," she said, " when 
 you consider that you should not stand in the way of my 
 making so advantageous a settlement in life !"
 
 40 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Diane !" It was Yvonne who now seized her arm and 
 shook her angrily. " How can you jest on such a subject ? 
 It is shameful !" 
 
 Diane turned and looked at her sister, and certainly there 
 was no jesting in her glance. 
 
 " I am in earnest," she said. " As far as I can perceive, 
 it rests with me to relieve mamma of her debt and to secure 
 her home to her. Do you think I would hesitate over 
 that? Because I have never said much about our difficul- 
 ties, you can't suppose that I have not been aware of them. 
 There is no good in talking of disagreeable things when 
 one can do nothing ; but when the opportunity comes to 
 do something, then one should act. I have always thought 
 that there would never be an opportunity for me, since I 
 am such a useless creature ; and I confess that I have often 
 envied you, Yvonne, your power of helping. But now my 
 opportunity has come, and I shall take it. I will accept 
 this man's offer." 
 
 Again there was a moment's silence ; for neither Yvonne 
 nor her mother knew what to make of such an attitude as 
 this on the part of Diane, of such totally unlooked-for reso- 
 lution as her last words expressed. A gentle and charming 
 docility had been so entirely heretofore one of her chief 
 traits of character that they were wholly unprepared for 
 any determination to act according to her own will and in 
 opposition to their wishes. Obstinacy, self-assertion, in 
 Helene or Ninon they would have understood and reck- 
 oned upon as possible ; but in Diane they looked at each 
 other with a consternation which was speechless, until Ma- 
 dame Prevost presently spoke : 
 
 " My dear child, you mean this most generously ; but I 
 must say again that it is absolutely out of the question for 
 me to allow anything of the kind. Understand once for all
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 41 
 
 that to see you sacrificed in such a manner would be far 
 worse to me than anything else which could possibly hap- 
 pen. It is not even a subject to be discussed. Let me 
 hear no more of it." 
 
 Generally, when Madame Prevost spoke in that tone her 
 children yielded implicit obedience ; but on this occasion 
 Diane broke the rule. 
 
 " I think, mamma, we must speak of it a little further," 
 she said ; " for I am quite in earnest and quite resolved. 
 I shall be sorry to do anything which you disapprove ; but 
 when it is a question of gaining so much by a single sacri- 
 fice, I am bound to make the sacrifice even against your 
 wishes. 'Xou are thinking of me, but I am thinking of how 
 I should feel when I saw you driven from your home after 
 I had refused to help you." 
 
 " And do you think," asked JVfadame Prevost, " that I 
 would not rather be homeless, and if need be penniless, 
 than let you marry the son of that man ?" 
 
 "Perhaps you would," replied Diane; "but it is for 
 me, not for you, to make the choice. And let us look at 
 it reasonably, mamma. I am a French girl, and we know 
 that a French girl is expected to make un mariage de 
 convenance" 
 
 " Because you are a French girl," said Madame Prevost, 
 " you should know better than to confound mariage de 
 convenance with what the gross English mind calls a ' mar- 
 riage of convenience.' Convenance, my dear, as you are 
 perfectly aware, is not convenience, mercenary or otherwise. 
 It is propriety, suitability all those things which wise par- 
 ents endeavor to secure in arranging anything so important 
 as a marriage for a child. But where is there any propriety 
 or suitability in a marriage between you and the grandson 
 of mv father's overseer ?"
 
 42 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 "It is possible that there might be more than you 
 think," replied Diane. " Of course, it is very bad that 
 his grandfather should have been what he was, and that his 
 father should be what he is. One must shrink a little from 
 these things" despite herself a shudder crept over the 
 girl's delicate frame "but, until we know to the con- 
 trary, we may suppose that the son is an improvement on 
 his father and grandfather, as we often find to be the case 
 in the sons of self-made vulgar men. The sons have had 
 advantages of wealth and education which their fathers did 
 not have, you know. And don't you think we should give 
 this Mr. Burnham the benefit of the doubt ? It is a point 
 in his favor that he made no impression of any kind on 
 me. I did not even remember having been him ; and, you 
 know, if he had been very objectionable in appearance or 
 manner I should have recollected him." 
 
 There was something humorous, had any one been in the 
 mood to perceive it, in the seriousness with which the girl 
 advanced this plea ; glancing appealingly from her mother 
 to Yvonne, as if sure that they must acknowledge the 
 force of it. But the aspect of neither was encouraging. 
 Plainly, they were not prepared to accept the fact that he 
 had not been able to impress himself upon her recollection 
 as evidence in the suitor's favor. 
 
 " Diane," said her sister, " it is simply revolting to hear 
 you talk in that manner. You know you don't think those 
 things ; you know that there is no one who would shrink 
 sooner than yourself from any connection with people of 
 such atrocious antecedents and such shocking vulgarity and 
 brutality. For this proposal proves a vulgarity so hopeless 
 that it leaves nothing more to be said or done. The men 
 father and son who are capable of this would be capable 
 of anytnmg. And the son is no better than the father.
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 43 
 
 How could he be ? And for you to endeavor to make us 
 believe that you think he might be is really worse than 
 nonsense it is a false pretence of which I would not have 
 believed you capable." 
 
 " Poor Yvonne !" said Diane, patting her sister's arm, 
 and quite unvexed. " You are angry because, like mam- 
 ma, you are thinking of me. But what I have said is 
 quite reasonable, and it is best to look at matters reason- 
 ably ; for, even if all you say were true, it would not alter 
 the necessity of the case. And, since I must marry the 
 man, it is surely better that I should think well than ill 
 of him." 
 
 "You shall never marry him !" cried Yvonne fiercely. 
 " We will never allow you to do so !" 
 
 " My dear," replied Diane, almost pityingly, " you can- 
 not prevent it. I see clearly that it is the thing appointed 
 for me to do a necessity of fate against which there is no 
 good in struggling, and 1 shall not struggle. I shall sim- 
 ply make the best of it, if there be any best in it ; but, in 
 any event, I shall do it." 
 
 Again the note of clear, inflexible resolve in her voice 
 struck on both the mother's and sister's ear, and again 
 they looked at each other with that strange sense of help- 
 lessness which the unexpected, especially in manifestations 
 of character, usually produces. Then, the imperative 
 mood being proved clearly useless, they tried remonstrance 
 and appeal. But Diane was unmoved. In her playful, 
 gentle way a way so associated in their minds with her 
 customary docility that its effect was now bewildering she 
 answered the appeals, but yielded nothing. And when 
 Madame Prevost finally and positively refused to com- 
 municate her answer to the Burnhams, she only said 
 quietly :
 
 44 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " I am sure you will not force me to act for myself. 
 That certainly would not be very convenable." 
 
 " Diane," exclaimed her mother, " I do not know 
 you !" 
 
 " No, mamma," she answered, " I do not think you do. 
 I have been so purely ornamental hitherto that you have 
 never thought of me as possibly useful, or as possessing 
 any will or character of my own. But I really do possess 
 a little, and I am quite determined to do this thing. So 
 write to Mr. Burnham and tell him that we accept his 
 proposal." 
 
 " I would rather die !" cried Madame Prevost passion- 
 ately. " Diane, you think that you are self -sacrificing, 
 but you are really cruel." 
 
 It was a thing so almost unexampled, at least in the 
 knowledge of her younger daughters, for Madame Prevost 
 to lose her self-control, that Diane stared for a moment at 
 her mother, and then suddenly dropped upon her knees 
 beside her. 
 
 " Mamma," she said earnestly, " / would rather die than 
 cause you any pain which could be avoided ; but it seems 
 to me that in this I am bound to disregard your present 
 pain for your lasting good. And not yours only. Think 
 of grand'mere and of the girls ! But I don't desire to be 
 obstinate, and it is not necessary for me to say that I don't 
 desire to marry Mr. Burnham. Tell me, therefore, mam- 
 ma, is there the least the very least hope of your being 
 able by any other means to pay your debt ?" 
 
 This was a crucial question indeed ; and, confronted 
 with it, Madame Prevost could only gaze helplessly into 
 the face uplifted to her. 
 
 "We can sell the plantation," she said desperately, at 
 last.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 45 
 
 Diane rose to her feet, smiling a little a rather sad and 
 hopeless smile: 
 
 " And if the plantation were sold, where would be your 
 means of support ?" she asked. " No, I see clearly that 
 this which is offered is our only resource. Mamma, 
 Yvonne" she looked at them appealingly " let us make 
 up our minds to what must be and face it bravely. It 
 seems absurd for me to offer such advice to you who have 
 already faced so much which you spared the rest of us. 
 But I knew of it all the time ; and, now that my turn has 
 come to take my share of the burden, you should not refuse 
 my help. This one thing has been reserved for me to do, 
 and this one thing I alone can do. Therefore, if you love 
 me, accept my resolution as final, and let us talk of it no 
 more." 
 
 And then Yvonne, forgetting her anger, sprang forward 
 and put her arms around the slender young figure standing 
 so upright in its resolve. 
 
 " Diane, dear Diane," she cried, "it is / who never 
 knew you ! Much as I have always loved you, I did not 
 know that you have the soul of a hero. But you shall not 
 be sacrificed that I solemnly swear ! There must be some 
 means to pay this debt, and I will find it. Only give me 
 a little time. Don't insist on letting these people know 
 your decision at once. The man has offered mamma three 
 months' grace : let us accept it. Let her write to him and 
 say, if you insist upon it, that his offer will be taken into 
 consideration, and that three months hence he shall have 
 his answer. Meanwhile I will move heaven and earth to 
 save you ; and if I fail well, then I promise to accept 
 your decision and say nothing more against it." 
 
 Such a proposal as this from any other girl would have 
 seemed the mere expression of a passionate protest, if not
 
 46 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 wildest folly ; but from Yvonne it had a more serious sig- 
 nificance. Her thorough knowledge of the family re- 
 sources, as well as her business-like qualities, were well 
 known to every member of the family ; and she had al- 
 ready been able to do so much towards practically improv- 
 ing their fortunes that it was no wonder Diane looked at 
 her now with a gleam of hope in her eyes. 
 
 " Yvonne !" she said, " do you really think there is 
 the least possibility of your succeeding?" 
 
 "How can I tell until I try?" answered Yvonne. 
 " Heaven helps those who help themselves. I can only 
 say that I will leave nothing undone to gain success. Only 
 give me three months." 
 
 There can be no doubt that Diane was glad of any excuse 
 for delay, brave and resolute as she had appeared ; added 
 to which her faith in Yvonne was so great that she agreed 
 willingly to the compromise suggested. So it was settled 
 that Mr. Burnham should be answered in the manner in- 
 dicated. 
 
 " And for three months," Diane stipulated, " we will 
 not speak again of the obnoxious subject. I shall try to 
 forget it, and also try not to hope too much ; for not even 
 you, Yvonne dear, can accomplish impossibilities." 
 
 " I feel," said Yvonne, " as if, for the end I have in 
 view, there were no such things as impossibilities. " 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 ' YVONNE, Yvonne !" cried a gay young voice, " what 
 are you doing, poring over those dreadful old papers, in- 
 stead of coming out on the gallery with us ?"
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 47 
 
 It was Ninon a tall slip of a girl, still in short frocks 
 who, standing in one of the open windows of the sitting- 
 room, with a background of soft, purple night behind her, 
 looked in on Yvonne, who, seated at the old escritoire, was 
 examining, by the light of a student's lamp, the package of 
 yellow papers which had roused her interest in the afternoon, 
 and which she had then laid aside for future examination. 
 The recollection of them had come to her some hours later 
 as a welcome distraction from other thoughts ; and she had 
 gone into the sitting-room to look over them at this un- 
 usual time. 
 
 " Presently, "Ninon," she replied, without looking up. 
 " These papers are not at all dreadful ; they are very inter- 
 esting, and I will come and tell you about them in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 Ninon shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " As if musty old things like those could be interesting !" 
 she said. But she knew Yvonne too well to persevere fur- 
 ther ; and, turning, she went back to the two white-clad 
 figures she had left seated on the gallery in the faint radi- 
 ance of a young moon a golden crescent hanging in the 
 western sky. " There is no use in trying to tempt her," 
 she reported. " She is absorbed in some old papers, which 
 are so interesting that she promises to come presently and 
 tell us about them. " 
 
 " Poor, dear Yvonne !" said Helene, the third sister, 
 with a laugh. " She thinks that because they interest her 
 they will interest us. It's a great mistake. But we must 
 pretend to be interested, because she is really so good in 
 helping mamma look after our affairs." 
 
 " Yvonne ought to have been born a boy/' said Ninon, 
 in the tone of one who cannot but remark a mistake of 
 Providence. " It would have been so much better for her,
 
 48 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 as she likes business and things of that sort ; and so much 
 better for us, since she could then look after our affairs to 
 more advantage, and perhaps make money instead of just 
 saving it. I hate saving money !" added this young per- 
 son, in a quiet but very decided Voice. 
 
 " Do you suppose anybody likes it except, perhaps, 
 misers and people of that kind ?" inquired Helene. " It 
 would be a satisfaction, however, to know that we were 
 even saving money, because then there would be a chance 
 of some day spending what was saved ; but I fear we are 
 not even doing that. It goes to my heart to see how wor- 
 ried poor mamma looks sometimes ; and Yvonne is begin- 
 ning to have a careworn expression after the Committee of 
 Ways and Means has been in session." 
 
 There was a soft sigh from where Diane sat, leaning back 
 in a low wicker chair, and gazing at the golden crescent in 
 the violet sky. 
 
 " It is true," she observed ; " but they have both always 
 been so anxious to keep their worries from us that it seemed 
 a pity not to gratify them, especially since there was no 
 good in knowing unpleasant things if one could not help 
 them." 
 
 " One might prefer to know them, all the same," said 
 Helene, who was afflicted with a full share of the failing 
 of Eve. " I don't think we ought to be treated quite so 
 much like children. There was a man here to-day to see 
 mamma," she added, after a moment's pause. " Do you 
 know what he came for ?" 
 
 "I suppose you mean a man who came to see heron 
 business," Diane answered quietly. " His name is Burn- 
 ham. He is from New Orleans." 
 
 " Oh, the son of grandpapa's overseer ! I have heard of 
 him. What business could he have with mamma ?"
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 49 
 
 " She owes him some money, Helne, if you must know." 
 
 " And did she pay it ?" 
 
 " Not yet," replied Diane, still calmly regarding the 
 sky. " But she has made arrangements to pay it in three 
 months." 
 
 " It was a pity she could not pay it at once. It must be 
 very disagreeable to owe that kind of person anything." 
 
 " Very disagreeable indeed ; but sometimes even owing is 
 preferable to paying when the sacrifice to be made in order 
 to pay is very great." 
 
 Helene looked sharply at the speaker. " You are grow- 
 ing mysterious too," she said. " What sacrifice must be 
 made ?" 
 
 " There is always a sacrifice involved in every debt, 
 which somebody must pay, you know," answered Diane 
 vaguely. 
 
 " That may be/' returned Helene pertinaciously ; " but 
 what I want to know is whether any particular sacrifice is 
 to be made for this debt. Does mamma, perhaps, think of 
 selling the place ?" 
 
 " No," replied Diane, with sudden energy ; " she does 
 not think of it ; and I beg you, Helene, not to trouble 
 her with any questions. It is, of course, annoying to owe 
 anything which one cannot pay ; but she has arranged, as 
 I have said, to meet this debt within three months ; and 
 that is all there is about it. Since she is so anxious to keep 
 such annoyances from us, the least we can do is to respect 
 her wishes by not prying into them. Knowing is not help- 
 ing, and if we all worried together it would not help mat- 
 ters in the least : it would only make them worse." 
 
 " Yvonne ought to be a boy !" reiterated Ninon. 
 *' Then there would be one of us to go and do something." 
 
 " You are quite right, Ninon," Yvonne said, unexpect-
 
 50 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 edly drawing near. " I have always wished that I were a 
 boy ; but never, I think, so much as to-night." 
 
 "Why to-night especially?" inquired Ninon. "Has 
 anything happened ?" 
 
 " Yes, something has happened," answered Yvonne. 
 " I have found an old paper which seems to me don't 
 laugh, all of you ! as if it may contain a faint, wild, dis- 
 tant hope of fortune for us." 
 
 " Fortune !" they all repeated, in different tones of sur- 
 prise and incredulity. " For us, Yvonne ?" 
 
 " A fortune as distant as if it were yonder," said Yvonne, 
 pointing to the crescent moon hanging like a fairy boat in 
 the sky before them ; " yet perhaps mind, I only say per- 
 haps existing for all that." 
 
 " But where, pray ? where ?" cried Ninon eagerly. 
 
 Yvonne sat down in one of the chairs scattered about. 
 Even in the moonlight they could see that her eyes were 
 shining strangely. 
 
 " Those old papers which I was reading when you spoke 
 to me, Ninon," she said, "interested me very much, be- 
 cause they are the records of things that seemed to belong 
 to another world. They are title-deeds of the estates our 
 great-great-grandfather lost at the time of the insurrection 
 of the slaves in the island of Santo Domingo." 
 
 " But there can be no hope of a fortune in them, 
 Yvonne," said Diane ; "for you know we have always 
 heard that the estates were totally lost." 
 
 " I am not so foolish as to think of the estates," replied 
 Yvonne. " But I have found a paper which states that, 
 being suddenly forced by the uprising of the slaves to fly 
 for his life, Henri de Marsillac, our great-great- grandfather, 
 buried at his home a large amount of gold and other valu- 
 ables which he was unable to take with him."
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 51 
 
 There were quick ejaculations from three young voices. 
 
 " A buried fortune ! How exciting !" cried Helene. 
 
 " Yvonne, you are dreaming!" said Diane ; while Ninon 
 flung herself on her knees at her sister's feet, put her 
 elbows in her lap, and looked up, with her eyes gleaming 
 out of the mane of loose, dark locks she tossed aside. 
 
 " Yvonne ! " she exclaimed, " do you believe it ?" 
 
 " I must believe that there was such a thing," answered 
 Yvonne ; " for the memorandum I have found is in the 
 handwriting of Henri de Marsillac ; and relates that, being 
 taken by surprise in the uprising, and obliged to escape 
 hurriedly, he buried, in a place which he describes, both 
 gold and jewels. Now be quiet, Ninon dear ! you know 
 it is possible that this fortune was long since discovered 
 perhaps by his son, perhaps by others ; but again there is 
 a faint possibility that it may be there buried yet." 
 
 " Gold and jewels !" repeated Hele"ne, in an awed tone. 
 " And there all this time buried, waiting for us ! 
 Yvonne, what a romance if it should prove true !" 
 
 " I am afraid there is no hope that it is there yet waiting 
 for us," said Diane. " If Yvonne found this memoran- 
 dum, of course others have seen it ; and no doubt the for- 
 tune was unearthed long ago." 
 
 " In that case," returned Yvonne, " would the paper be 
 there at all ? Or is it likely we should never have heard of 
 such a thing ? You know how often grand'm&re has talked 
 of the stories of Santo Domingo, which her father-in-law 
 told her. Among them all would she have forgotten such 
 a thing as the recovery of a buried fortune ?" 
 
 "No," the girls agreed. " Grand'mere would know. 
 Let us go at once and ask her about it." 
 
 There was a simultaneous movement ; and the next mo- 
 ment four young figures, with Yvonne at their head, en-
 
 52 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 tered the drawing-room, where Madame Prevost and her 
 mother, Madame de Marsillac, sat reading by the light of a 
 shaded lamp. The corners of the large, foreign-looking 
 room were shadowy ; but the centre of radiance about the 
 table at which both ladies were sitting brought out with a 
 picture-like distinctness their figures especially that of 
 the elder lady, herself a picture in every sense, and one 
 which an artist would have delighted to paint. The deli- 
 cacy of her regular features, the fine, clear pallor of her 
 skin, were admirably contrasted by her silvery hair, ar- 
 ranged in a series of puffs on each side of her face an 
 arrangement eminently becoming ; and rendered more so 
 by a coif of lace, which, just touching with its point the 
 ivory-like forehead, left exposed the puffs of silvery hair, 
 but fell in two lappets on each shoulder, thus framing the 
 face in the softest drapery. It was a work of love and of 
 artistic pleasure to Denise (the lifelong maid of Madame 
 de Marsillac, who had laughed at the idea of freedom part- 
 ing her from her mistress) to dress that beautiful hair, and 
 arrange over it the fine lace which she guarded so carefully. 
 
 A queen all her life long had been this stately old lady, 
 from the days of her beautiful, petted youth, when parents 
 had idolized and suitors fought for her glances, to the pres- 
 ent time, when her subjects had narrowed down to a few 
 faithful hearts, all of whom, however, were absolutely 
 loyal. Grande dame she was to the tips of her slender 
 fingers, and so rigorous and punctilious in her ideas of the 
 proprieties of life that her granddaughters mingled much 
 awe with their love and admiration for her. This was evi- 
 dent in their manner whenever they approached her ; and 
 at the present time even impetuous Ninon held back and 
 allowed the eldest sister to explain their errand. 
 
 They were a pretty group all so girlish, so simple, in
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY- 53 
 
 manner and dress, and all more or less preserving in the 
 third generation the beauty of the mother and grand- 
 mother. If this beauty lost in them something of its dis- 
 tinction of aspect save in the case of Diane it was at 
 present replaced by the ineffable bloom of youth ; and they 
 formed a band to gladden a mother's eyes and heart with 
 their fair, sweet young looks. 
 
 " Grand'm&re," said Yvonne, advancing into the circle 
 of lamp-light, " we have come to ask you a question." 
 
 " I hope that it is one which I can answer, mes enfants," 
 replied the old lady, lifting her eyes with a smile. " It is 
 easy to ask questions, as you know ; but to answer them 
 that is sometimes very difficult." 
 
 " You can answer this, grand' 'mre," continued Yvonne. 
 "It is only to tell us whether you ever heard of such a 
 thing as a buried fortune on the De Marsillac estates in 
 Santo Domingo." 
 
 " I have heard," replied Madame de Marsillac, without 
 the least hesitation, " that my father-in-law's father, your 
 great-great-grandfather, buried some amount of money 
 how much I do not know on the eve of his flight from his 
 estate. This is certain ; but" the girls drew nearer in 
 breathless eagerness "the sum was never recovered, be- 
 cause he died at the Cape from his wounds ; and even if it 
 had been safe to search for it, no one but himself knew 
 where' he had concealed it." 
 
 " Did he not leave some memorandum some description 
 of the place ?" asked the eldest sister, restraining the others 
 by a gesture. 
 
 " Not that I ever heard of, and I should have heard of 
 it if he had," answered Madame de Marsillac. 
 
 " But he did, grand 1 nitre, he did !" cried Ninon, unable 
 to restrain herself longer. " And Yvonne has found it."
 
 54 THE MAK OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Yvonne has found it !" repeated Madame de Marsil- 
 lac, looking at Yvonne with an expression of surprise. 
 " When and where?" 
 
 " Half an hour ago, grand'm&re, in a package of old 
 papers which I was examining put of curiosity," Yvonne 
 replied. " Here is what I found." 
 
 She made a step forward and placed in her grandmother's 
 hand a yellow, stained sheet of paper a single sheet, 
 which, folded closely, might readily have lain concealed be- 
 tween other and bulkier papers for more than the century 
 which had elapsed since it had last seen the light. There 
 was a pause of intense silence as the old lady opened and 
 placed it immediately beneath the lamp, then slowly read 
 the lines of faded writing within. All eyes were bent upon 
 her face, as if to judge by the manner in which she received 
 this communication from the past how far they were to 
 credit it. The silence was long or seemed long to the 
 excited fancy of the young people grouped around her 
 before she lifted her eyes and, looking across the table at 
 her daughter, said, in the voice of one who is deeply im- 
 pressed : 
 
 " This is very strange ! How often I have heard my 
 father-in-law say that his father had died leaving no clue 
 to the place where he had concealed everything of value 
 which he could lay his hands upon when forced to fly for 
 his life ! And yt here, in the writing of Henri de Marsil- 
 lac himself, is a full description of the spot where he buried 
 both money and jewels." 
 
 " How could it possibly have been overlooked so long?" 
 asked Madame Prevost, in an awed tone, as she held out 
 her hand for the paper. 
 
 "It was within another paper," said Yvonne " an old 
 deed, which was passed over, no doubt, as of no value, and
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 55 
 
 might have been even partly opened without revealing its 
 enclosure. But I read it on account of its quaint phraseol- 
 ogy, and when I turned the page I found this folded within. " 
 
 " Read it, mamma ! read it aloud !" cried Helene. 
 " Let us hear what it is." 
 
 " Yvonne should read it. since she was its discoverer," 
 gaid Madame Prevost, with a smile at her eldest daughter. 
 
 And so Yvonne, standing beside the table, and holding 
 the paper within the radiance of the circle of lamp-light, 
 read aloud the following words, which may be thus trans- 
 lated into English : 
 
 " Having learned, through the warning of my faithful 
 servant, Jacques, that an insurrection of the slaves is hourly 
 to be expected, I have determined to join my family at the 
 Cape without delay. And since it would be rash to at- 
 tempt to carry valuables with me in the disordered condi- 
 tion of the country, I have concealed everything of the 
 kind to wit, the sum in gold which I have recently re- 
 ceived from M. Brissot-Saget in payment for the estate of 
 La Coupe, my wife's jewels, and all our plate in the place 
 which I now describe, for the benefit of my children, should 
 I myself be prevented from returning to secure them : 
 
 " On the second terrace of the garden, at the east side of 
 the sun-dial which stands in the circle containing the statue 
 of the nymph, I have buried everything. Should I not 
 reach the Cape alive, Jacques will convey this, with my 
 other papers, to my wife. 
 
 ' HENRI DE MABSILLAC. 
 
 MILLEFLEUKS, August 22, 1791." 
 
 Profound silence followed for a moment upon the read- 
 ing of this document, now first seen by other eyes than
 
 56 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 those of the writer since the night it was penned in distant 
 Santo Domingo. Every one was conscious of a thrill of 
 something like awe in hearing this message of the dead, 
 delivered at last to the fourth generation of his blood, after 
 the lapse of a century. It was the voice of Madame de 
 Marsillac which finally broke the silence. 
 
 " Jacques was faithful indeed," she said. " He accom- 
 panied his master on his flight to the Cape ; and, when 
 they were met by the insurgent slaves, died defending him. 
 Thanks to the speed of his horse, M. de Marsillac escaped ; 
 but he was desperately wounded, and died a few days later. 
 So it happened that, although he reached his family and 
 saved his papers, he failed to tell them or to make them 
 understand where they would find this paper. At least so 
 we may conjecture, for we know very little. My father-in- 
 law's mother never recovered from the horrors of that 
 time. She died soon after they reached Louisiana, and two 
 of her children followed her ; so that he, a child of six 
 years, was left sole survivor of the family." 
 
 " And he never thought of reading valueless title-deeds," 
 remarked Yvonne ; " so this one scrap of value among 
 them escaped his knowledge. The question now is, has it 
 yet any value?" 
 
 No one felt able to answer this question, and all eyes 
 turned again toward the grandmother, whom, in French 
 fashion, the children had been trained to regard as the 
 head of the house, as if seeking an oracle there. 
 
 " Who can say ?" replied Madame de Marsillac. " A 
 century has passed ; the land has been in the hands of the 
 revolted slaves from that day to this ; no one can tell 
 whether the money M. de Marsillac concealed has not long 
 ago been found and taken." 
 
 " But," said Yvonne and what emphasis her clear young
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 57 
 
 voice lent that potent word ! "if by any chance it should 
 still be undiscovered, that money is ours, and ours alone." 
 
 Her grandmother nodded. "There can be no question 
 of that," she answered. " You who are gathered here 
 your mother alone in her generation, and you four girls in 
 yours are the only living descendants of Henri de Mar- 
 sillac." 
 
 Yvonne's glance passed over the persons thus indicated 
 over her mother's noble, careworn face ; over the deli- 
 cate, girlish aspect of her sisters, dwelling longest on 
 Diane ; and, as if she drew inspiration from the sight, as 
 if in that moment she saw all the struggles of the past and 
 all the hopelessness of the future, she spoke as not one of 
 those present had ever heard her speak before, with a pas- 
 sionate earnestness and decision that seemed for the mo- 
 ment to transform her. 
 
 " Then," she said, " with the help of God, I will find 
 that money if it still remains where Henri de Marsillac 
 placed it !" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IT was two or three hours later, and the entire household 
 was wrapped in silence and stillness, when Yvonne and her 
 mother the Committee of Ways and Means, as Helene 
 called them were alone together in the chamber of the 
 latter. Through the open windows a soft breeze from the 
 river entered, wafting back the light curtains ; while Ma- 
 dame Prevost, reclining in a low, deep chair, looked and 
 listened to Yvonne, who, seated before her, erect and 
 eager, was talking earnestly ; the shaded lamplight from
 
 58 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 the table beside which they sat falling on her picturesque 
 head, her animated face, and her girlish figure in its simple 
 gown of white muslin. 
 
 " There is nothing else to be done," she was saying. 
 " The money must be sought, and there is no one but my- 
 self to seek it." 
 
 "But, my dear," said her mother, " such a thing, when 
 one comes to consider it practically, is madness. How is 
 it possible for you to go to that island to look for money 
 concealed a century ago ? It would be a wild and hopeless 
 expedition if you were a man, but for a young girl to 
 undertake such a search is out of the question." 
 
 " Mamma," was the grave reply, " nothing is out of the 
 question which must be done. And there is not anything 
 more certain than that this must be done. It seems to me 
 no less than a miracle that I should have found that .old 
 paper, which has lain hidden from all eyes so long, just 
 when our need is most desperate. And because I have 
 found it at the time when it means most to us, I believe 
 firmly that the money buried by Henri de Marsillac is still 
 to be found where he concealed it. At least, you must 
 admit there is a strong probability that it is still there ; 
 and so would it not be madness indeed if we failed to look 
 for it ?" 
 
 "It might be worth while perhaps," Madame Prevost 
 answered, " if there were a man to go " 
 
 " But since there is no man, / must go. " 
 
 " Yvonne," said her mother, " yoa have played the part 
 of a man so long in our affairs that I believe you half for- 
 get that you are not one. There is nothing more impossi- 
 ble than that you should go on this wild quest The mere 
 thought of such a thing is absurd. You are dreaming, my 
 dear dreaming a fairy tale."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 59 
 
 " Is there much that is suggestive of a fairy tale in the 
 condition of our affairs ?" asked Yvonne dryly. " Is 
 there much encouragement to dream in the reality of our 
 debts, or in the resolution of Diane to sacrifice herself ? 
 Do you understand that, gentle as she seems, Diane is im- 
 movable in her resolve ? As certainly as she lives she will 
 marry Burnham's son if we cannot pay the debt at the ex- 
 piration of three months. And do you know any means 
 by which we can obtain the money to pay the debt ?" 
 
 Madame Prevost shook her head as she looked at her 
 daughter's intensely earnest face. 
 
 " Did you hear me swear to her," Yvonne went on, 
 1 ' that I would move heaven and earth to find the means to 
 save her ? It must have been an inspiration which made 
 me say this ; for I knew there was no hope that we had 
 already tried every possible means of raising money to pay 
 the debt, and failed. But when I looked at Diane and 
 thought of what she was resolved to do, I felt that there 
 was nothing impossible except to permit such a sacrifice ; 
 and so I pledged myself wildly, desperately, hopelessly, 
 one might say. I would ' leave nothing undone,' I said ; 
 although I felt that there was nothing to do. And then 
 then, mamma, there came into my hands, by a chance so 
 strange, the old paper, written as if it were to meet this 
 need, by that man standing on the verge of his death a 
 hundred years ago. And what it says plainly is that if 1 
 will go to a certain spot in the island of Santo Domingo, I 
 shall find the means to save Diane, to pay your debt, to 
 give us all peace and independence. Do you think I can 
 hesitate ? Do you think anything could keep me back ? 
 No not lions, not devils in my path, far less considera- 
 tions of what is or is not proper for a young girl to do." 
 
 " Yvonne, you astonish, you almost frighten me !" said
 
 60 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 her mother, startled by this passionate vehemence. " These 
 are new ideas indeed." 
 
 " Not more new than the needs which draw them forth, 
 mamma," said Yvonne. " If I wished to do this merely 
 as an adventure, or even merely for the money as money, 
 you would be right to have no sympathy with me and to 
 refuse your consent. But when you consider what it really 
 means that I mrist go, however painful or difficult it may 
 be, since there is no one else to go, in order to find Diane's 
 ransom, your freedom, peace for dear old grand'mlre in 
 her last days ; and security from indigence, the worst 
 trouble, the worst temptation of existence, for poor Helene 
 and Ninon you will see as I do, that it is one of the 
 supreme occasions of life, when mere proprieties must be 
 cast aside, and one must act without regard to what the 
 world may think or say." 
 
 " But the practical difficulties seem insurmountable," 
 Madame Prevost yet protested. " Even if we could raise 
 
 the money " 
 
 ' The money must be raised there is no question of 
 that." 
 
 " Still, how can you undertake, alone and unattended, 
 such a journey ? How can you secure yourself against rob- 
 bery and violence on that horrible island ? You do not 
 know of what you are talking. If you were a boy now, it 
 might be possible 
 
 " Then," cried Yvonne, springing to her feet, " I will 
 be a loy ! We will remedy the mistake of Nature. Don't 
 look at me as if you thought I had gone mad, mamma. 
 What I mean is that I will put on a boy's dress, and no 
 one will suspect that I am anything else." 
 
 " Yvonne, this is most wild, most insane of all !" 
 
 " No, mamma, no ! Instead of that, it is a happy in-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 61 
 
 spiration. Why did I not think of it before ? How it 
 simplifies everything ! It is not I, Yvonne Prevost, who 
 will go, hampered by petticoats and proprieties ; but a boy, 
 a delightful boy, who need be troubled by neither. What 
 shall we call him ? Oh, Henri de Marsillac of course, after 
 his great-great-grandfather !" 
 
 " But there is no De Marsillac living," said Madame 
 Prevost, bewildered. 
 
 " And he will not be living except in a dream, a mas- 
 querade. Oh, I am perfectly enchanted with the idea ! 
 Mamma dear, don't you see how charming it is ? It is not 
 for nothing people have called me the man of the family, 
 I will be the man of the family, and do all that a man can 
 or dare do, so help me God !" 
 
 What a picture she made at this moment, standing so 
 straight in her slim, young grace ; her face flashing eager 
 resolve from every eloquent feature ; her voice dropping 
 over the last passionate, earnest words ! . Madame Prevost 
 gazed at her as one fascinated. The contagion of such self- 
 forgetfulness, such courage, such resolve, was irresistible. 
 She felt herself carried away, so that all power of objec- 
 tion failed her. And it was not only that the need was 
 desperate, the occasion supreme, and the hope almost 
 miraculous in its opportuneness, but it was not an ordinary 
 girl who proposed to do this wild and daring thing, but 
 Yvonne Yvonne, who had won the right to assume such 
 duty and such risk ; who had proved her capabilities, her 
 judgment and her resource ; so that the positions of mother 
 and daughter were often reversed, inasmuch as the latter 
 supported while the former depended. And the habit of 
 dependence asserted itself now. In her heart Madame Pre- 
 vost felt that Yvonne was capable of anything, even of sus- 
 taining such a part as she proposed. Besides, since it was
 
 62 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 impossible that she could go properly protected and attend- 
 ed, the mother, bred in French traditions, and shrinking 
 with horror from the new code of independence for girls, 
 was much more ready to consent to her masquerading in 
 male attire than to her going alone in her own character. 
 And so after a moment she said, almost in a whisper : 
 
 " If I consent to this, Yvonne, it must be a profound secret. 
 No one must know it but ourselves you and me " 
 
 " And one more me, mamma !" cried a voice which 
 made them both start. " You cannot leave me out of the 
 secret, whatever it is." 
 
 It was Diane, who, having noiselessly entered in time to 
 hear her mother's last words, now advanced across the 
 dark, polished floor, a vision of ghostly fairness in her cling- 
 ing white night-robe. 
 
 " You must excuse my interrupting you," she went on ; 
 " but I have been waiting so long for Yvonne that at last 
 I thought I would come and find out why the consultation 
 was so prolonged ; although of course I know that you are 
 talking about this romance of a buried fortune." 
 
 "It is no romance at all, but a reality," said Yvonne. 
 " No one can doubt the evidence of that paper, together 
 with grand'mbre's testimony of what was always known. 
 There is nothing of which we may feel more certainly as- 
 sured than that our great-great-grandfather buried his 
 valuables in the place he describes. The only doubt is 
 whether they have been left undisturbed until now." 
 
 " And that doubt is equalled only by the greater diffi- 
 culty of finding out anything about it," said Diane, curl- 
 ing down on a rug at her mother's feet. " In fact, as far 
 as I can perceive, the fortune, even if undisturbed, might 
 as well be buried in the heart of Africa, so far as we are 
 concerned. It is all very well for Yvonne to declare that
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 63 
 
 she will find it, and for the rest of us to cheer her resolu- 
 tion ; but when it comes to considering the matter in cold 
 blood, as I have been considering it for an hour past, one 
 perceives that we are dreaming of impossibilities." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Yvonne, "it is settled that I 
 am going to seek it." 
 
 "Indeed! When?" 
 
 " Immediately. There is no time for delay, as you well 
 know. At the end of three months the Burnham debt 
 must be paid. "Within that time, therefore, I must go to 
 Santo Domingo and find this money, if it is to be found." 
 
 Diane looked up at her sister in silence for a moment ; 
 then, in a voice altogether changed, she asked gravely : 
 
 " Yvonne, are you in earnest ?" 
 
 " Perfectly in earnest/* said Yvonne. " How can you 
 imagine otherwise ?" 
 
 " But it is impossible. You cannot go alone." 
 
 " I must go alone. Do you think that considerations of 
 les convenances are for those whose situation is as desperate 
 as ours?" 
 
 " I was not thinking of les convenances," said Diane. 
 " I was thinking of danger real danger. You are as brave 
 as a lion, Yvonne ; but you are only a girl, all the same ; 
 and I don't see how it is possible for you to undertake 
 such an expedition as this alone. It would involve risks 
 for a man." 
 
 " And / shall be a man for the time," said Yvonne. 
 " That was the secret which you overheard us discussing, 
 and which you must strictly keep. Since we have no man 
 even remotely belonging to us to do this thing no brother, 
 uncle, or cousin and since you are so far right that, set- 
 ting les convenances aside, I fear a girl could hardly en- 
 counter all the difficulties and risks involved, we have de-
 
 04 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 cided that I shall cease to be a girl for the time being ; that 
 I shall put on masculine dress, and become the boy I have 
 always desired to be," 
 
 " Yvonne !" Diane's tone was full of horror and con- 
 sternation " suppose you were discovered ?" 
 
 " I shall not be discovered, Diane. Don't frighten 
 mamma by such suggestions. I am confident of my ability 
 to support the part, and not less confident because it will 
 give me a sense of fearlessness such as a woman can never 
 know. It will be your brother, not a helpless sister, who 
 will go to find and bring back your ransom." 
 
 " Yvonne, Yvonne !" 
 
 Even as Yvonne had done in the other scene between 
 these three, Diane now sprang to her feet and threw her 
 arms about her sister. 
 
 " I would rather have you than a hundred brothers !" 
 she cried. "It is for me that you are going to do this 
 reckless thing I know it. But you must not. Mamma, 
 tell her that she must not. There is no saying what may 
 befall her, and it is better that I should be sacrificed than 
 that we should lose Yvonne." 
 
 " Diane, be silent !" exclaimed Yvonne, fearing that her 
 mother's hardly extorted consent might be recalled. " You 
 have no right to interfere. Mamma, don't listen to her." 
 
 Poor Madame Prevost sat motionless and silent, torn by 
 a struggle such as only a mother could know. Diane's 
 words seemed to make more real to her the dangers sur- 
 rounding the wild enterprise to which Yvonne had pledged 
 herself ; but, then, Diane's presence also intensified her 
 consciousness of the other danger more real, more menac- 
 ing, more pressing which threatened the girl herself. 
 Was it not well to dare any risk which might result in res- 
 cuing this self-devoted victim from a fate against which
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 65 
 
 every fibre of the mother's heart revolted ? Yes, it was 
 hard to make the choice ; but since it must be made 
 
 " Diane," she said suddenly, in a low, clear tone, 
 " Yvonne is right. As there must be one sacrifice or the 
 other, hers is the better. She will undertake a difficult, 
 even perhaps a perilous, task ; but she can hope for the 
 help of God, because her motive is absolutely unselfish. 
 She is also right in thinking that, since she must go alone, 
 the attire of a man will be a protection, and enable her to 
 do many things which she might not otherwise be able to 
 accomplish. Extraordinary emergencies require sometimes 
 extraordinary exertions to meet them, and we cannot al- 
 ways look at things in a conventional light. It will almost 
 break my heart to see her go away on such a wild and hope- 
 less quest 
 
 44 Not hopeless at all, mamma dearest !" cried Yvonne, 
 as her mother's voice broke down in tears. " Call me fan- 
 ciful if you will, but I do not believe I found that paper 
 at such a time for nothing. I shall come back to you 
 with Henri de Marsillac's buried fortune. I am sure of 
 it." 
 
 " But, Yvonne, are you not frightened to think of all 
 you must go through to reach it ?" Diane asked, looking 
 at her with wide eyes. 
 
 " Frightened ! No," Yvonne answered. " I had no 
 feeling of the kind when I thought of going as a girl ; but 
 as a boy how could one be frightened as a boy ?" 
 
 " I think I have heard of boys and even men who were 
 sometimes frightened," said Diane. " But if no one is to 
 know of your transformation and indeed I am sure grand' - 
 mere would die before she would give her consent to such 
 a thing how are you going to accomplish it ? Where will 
 you cease to be a girl and become a boy ?"
 
 66 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 This was a practical difficulty, in the face of which 
 Yvonne remained silent a moment or two, Then, her 
 young mind being accustomed to rapid reflection and deci- 
 sion, she said : 
 
 " I shall have to go to New York to find a steamer for 
 Hayti ; so it is there the transformation shall take place. 
 Cousin Alix lives there, and she will help me. We must 
 take her into our confidence, but no one else. Grand'm&re 
 and the girls must know, of course, that I have gone to the 
 island ; but not how I have gone ; white our friends and 
 acquaintances had better not know even that. They would 
 only laugh at the idea of my going to seek a buried for- 
 tune. So they must only be told that I have gone to New 
 York to visit Cousin Alix. It is really nobody's business 
 where I have gone, but we don't want to create an unneces- 
 sary mystery." 
 
 "By no means," said Madame Prevost. "It is very 
 necessary to account for your absence, and 1 am glad I can 
 truthfully say that you have gone to visit Alix." 
 
 " It seems really providential that Cousin Alix should 
 have gone to New York to live, ' ' remarked Diane. ' ' With - 
 out her assistance, you would find it hard to meet the prac- 
 tical difficulty of changing from a girl into a boy and back 
 again." 
 
 Yvonne smiled. " I wish there were no worse difficulty 
 in my path than that," she said. " But there is yet one 
 more person to be taken into our confidence, as far as the 
 mere fact of the journey to the island and the object with 
 which I go is concerned. That is Mr. Clarke. We must 
 go to New Orleans to-morrow, mamma, to see him. It 
 will be necessary to borrow more money on our sugar crop, 
 for I must have enough to enable me to meet any extraor- 
 dinary demands that may arise."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 67 
 
 "And if you fail?" observed Madame Prevost, whose 
 heart sank at this. 
 
 " If I fail we shall be ruined," replied Yvonne calmly. 
 ' ' But we shall be that if I do not go. And I shall not fail. "
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " THE end of the matter is, Bertie, that the doctors give 
 no hope of your overcoming this constitutional weakness 
 unless you live for two years at least in a warm climate." 
 
 Herbert Atherton rose from his seat opposite his father 
 the two men had been lingering over their after-dinner 
 coffee and cigars together, as was their custom ; for each 
 was partial to the society of the other and stood for a few 
 minutes meditatively on the hearth-rug, with his back to 
 the fire. He was a tall, slender man, handsome, and pos- 
 sessing an air of distinction which does not always accom- 
 pany good looks ; but a certain narrowness and hollo wness 
 of chest, together with his blond fairness that peculiar 
 fairness which invariably denotes a certain lack of vigor 
 would have told a physician at a glance in what direction 
 lay the constitutional weakness of which his father spoke. 
 It was indeed an inherited weakness ; for his mother, whom 
 he strikingly resembled, had died early of consumption. 
 
 " In short," he said at length, in a quiet tone, " I have 
 to choose between sentence of death and sentence of ban- 
 ishment. But who is to tell that the last will avert the 
 first ? After I have given up all my interests in life, pro- 
 fessional and social, and idled away two years in some in- 
 valid resort, who is to guarantee me against dying at last, 
 as so many other poor devils have died who were persuaded
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 69 
 
 to do the same ? But if the dying must be done within a 
 limited space of time, I should much prefer to make shorter 
 work of it and die in harness, with the satisfaction of liv- 
 ing, rather than merely existing, to the last." 
 
 " You mistake the case, my dear boy," said his father 
 earnestly. " The doctors have spoken very frankly, and 
 they assure me that your lungs are not seriously affected at 
 present ; but there is a weakness, a predisposition to the 
 disease we fear, which makes it necessary for you to live 
 for two years at least in a climate that is warm, equable, 
 and healthful. At the end of that time if you give up 
 all work and live as much as possible in the open air they 
 say that the weakness will be overcome, and your prospects 
 for a long life as good as any one's." 
 
 " Very kind of them to offer such assurances," said the 
 young man sarcastically. " It is the old story, I fear ; 
 and if I consulted my own inclination, I should take my 
 chances for life or death here, rather than consent to this 
 banishment with all that it involves." 
 
 " But you will not consult your own inclinations, Her- 
 bert?" said his father, yet more earnestly. "You will 
 think of me and of your future. What are two years at 
 your age?" 
 
 " Very much/' replied the other : " more than they 
 would be either earlier or later ; for just now, as you well 
 know, I am on the road to success ; but if I drop out of 
 the race, others will step in and gain all for which I am 
 striving. Life does not halt an instant for any man." 
 
 "It is hard, my boy I know it is hard !" the elder 
 Atherton said, looking up at him with deep sympathy. 
 " It grieves me as much as it grieves you to see you drop 
 out of the race, as you express it, even for a limited time " 
 
 "It is not for a limited time," interrupted the other,
 
 70 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 turning his face away. " Don' t you see? this is final. 
 It means that if I am to live at all hereafter, it will be as 
 one of the great army of invalids and valetudinarians idling 
 away existence in ' health resorts, ' with no aspiration in 
 life beyond that of avoiding cold and nursing a vital flame 
 that will continue to grow feebler year by year. Father, I 
 would rather die sharply, quickly. If you would only not 
 press the point of this going away ' 1 
 
 " But I must, Bertie, I must !" said the father, rising 
 and laying his hand upon his shoulder. " I must beg you 
 to do it for my 'sake, if not for your own. You know what 
 you are to me. Is it necessary to tell you that since your 
 mother died I have not had a thought except for you and 
 your future ? Every hope I have in the world is bound up 
 in you ; and for my sake, therefore that this inherited 
 curse may be averted, and I may not be left desolate in my 
 age I implore you, my son, to follow the advice of the 
 doctors and go away." 
 
 Only a selfish and callous nature could have withstood 
 such an appeal, uttered by a father who, although usually 
 reserved in the expression of affection, had proved his de- 
 votion by every act of his life. Indeed, so well did the 
 two understand each other that Herbert Atherton had 
 never for an instant doubted his father's love any more 
 than the comprehension and sympathy which were always 
 to be felt under his quiet reticence. What he was to him 
 he knew without need of speech ; but the speech itself 
 the very unaccustomedness of which lent it additional force 
 touched him deeply. The quiver of the older man's 
 voice, even more than the words he uttered, gave him a 
 poignant sense of what he owed to this love which had al- 
 ways encompassed him, but had never before demanded 
 anything. What it now demanded was that he should
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 71 
 
 live, even if in order to do so he must sacrifice all that 
 made life of value to his young ambition ; even if he must 
 fall into the routine of that semi-invalid existence which 
 he had watched in others with a sense of dread and repul- 
 sion produced by the lurking fear that it might be his own 
 fate. He had always vowed in his heart that he would not 
 submit to it ; that when the time came to choose he would 
 take a quick death in preference to a lingering death-in- 
 life ; but now that the time had come, he saw that such 
 choice would be but selfishness. For his father's sake he 
 must accept life on any terms that might be granted him, 
 however bitter they might be. And so it was that after a 
 short pause he replied quietly : 
 
 " My dear father, the expression of your wish is enough. 
 Of course I will go since you desire it, and since such is 
 the medical sentence. Have the doctors indicated any par- 
 ticular place of banishment, or am I to be allowed to 
 choose within the rather vague limits of ' a warm cli- 
 mate ' ?" 
 
 "They have not recommended any particular place," 
 answered Mr. Atherton, relieved by an acquiescence more 
 prompt than he had expected. "It is left for you to de- 
 cide where you will go. But since, in connection with the 
 warm climate, Dr. Talford mentioned a sea- voyage as desir- 
 able, I have myself thought of the West Indies." 
 
 " The West Indies !" repeated Herbert. He shrugged 
 his shoulders with a gesture of indifference. " Why not? 
 They offer a wide field in which to do nothing, and are at 
 least not overrun with invalids, like Florida and Southern 
 California. If a man must drop as a wreck out of the 
 stream of life, I fancy that a West Indian island is as good 
 a place as another to be stranded upon." 
 
 " You distress me by speaking in that manner," said his
 
 72 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 father. " There is no question of your dropping as a wreck 
 out of the stream of life. You are only asked to take cer- 
 tain precautions against a possible danger ; and I see no 
 reason to doubt the assurance of the doctors that, these 
 precautions taken, such a danger may never arise. So let 
 us face the necessity cheerfully" he sat down again in his 
 chair " and decide what is best for you to do." 
 
 To face the prospect cheerfully was a little beyond Her- 
 bert Atherton's powers ; but to face it philosophically was 
 at least within his reach. So he, too, sat down again and 
 lighted a fresh cigar as he inquired : 
 
 " Have you any plan to propose ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied his father ; " I have a plan which I hope 
 you will approve. I sympathize so deeply with your ob- 
 jection to being ordered away to vegetate in idleness, that 
 I have been considering what can be done to make the ban- 
 ishment less irksome to you, and I have decided that the 
 only possible thing is to provide you with some occupation 
 and interest." 
 
 " Rather difficult to do if I am condemned to a valetu- 
 dinarian existence for two years," answered the young man 
 despondently. " But I am open to any suggestions. Only 
 don't ask me to become a fisherman or a botanist. Those 
 are the only things the West Indies seem to suggest." 
 
 " I shall certainly not propose either of those pursuits to 
 you," returned Mr. Atherton, smiling. " My idea is very 
 different. Have I ever mentioned to you that I possess an 
 interest in a sugar estate in the island of Santo Domingo ?" 
 
 " I don't think you ever have. Isn't it rather a singular 
 investment ?" 
 
 ' ' On the contrary, it has proved very profitable until 
 lately. Together with some of my friends, I was induced 
 to enter into the speculation by a man on whose judgment
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 73 
 
 and integrity we had implicit reliance ; and the result was 
 all we anticipated so long as he was alive to manage the 
 property. But, unfortunately, he died rather more than a 
 year ago, and since then affairs have been by no means so 
 satisfactory. The person who has the management of the 
 estate now is a man whom he trained and in whom he had 
 the greatest confidence. This confidence induced us to 
 leave matters in his hands when poor Burton died ; but 
 we are not at all satisfied with his management. It is 
 necessary, therefore, that we should send some one to look 
 into affairs ; and it has occurred to me that this may serve as 
 an occupation for you. You can go out, examine into mat- 
 ters, take as much or as little of the responsibility of man- 
 agement as you care to assume, and meanwhile discover 
 how the climate of the island said to be the best in the 
 West Indies suits you." 
 
 " It sounds quite promising," replied Atherton ; " and 
 leads one to think that in making your investment you 
 foresaw the possibility of some day needing to find an occu- 
 pation in the tropics for an invalid son. At least the exist- 
 ence of the estate provides me with a spot a little more 
 definite than the equator towards which to turn my face. 
 For of course I'll go, overhaul the agent, and perhaps 
 who knows? turn sugar-planter and lotus-eater, and never 
 come back again. What, by the way, do I know of Santo 
 Domingo ? Very little, I fear, except that it was the His- 
 panola of Columbus and the scene of many romantic and 
 tragic histories." 
 
 " It is the richest, the most beautiful, the most undevel- 
 oped and the most unfortunate of the West Indian 
 islands," said his father. " You will find some books 
 about it in the library, which I collected at the time we 
 bought the sugar estate. Since then I have met many busi-
 
 74 THE MAK OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ness men and planters from the island, and they all agree 
 in describing the climate as one of rare perfection. It was 
 that made me think of sending you there. ' ' 
 
 " You don't know how grateful I am to you for giving 
 me an object to lessen the weariness of enforced exile and 
 idleness," said the young man earnestly. "It seems to 
 put a different face upon the necessity of going. And 
 this reminds me did Talford say anything about how soon 
 I should go?" 
 
 " The sooner the better," answered Mr. Atherton reluc- 
 tantly. " He wishes you to be in the tropics before the 
 severe weather sets in. And if a thing is to be done " 
 
 " ' Then 'twere well it were done quickly,' " quoted 
 Herbert, as he rose to his feet again. " I shall find out 
 to-morrow when the next steamer for Santo Domingo sails. 
 Meanwhile there are one or two places I have promised to 
 look in on to-night. Even a condemned man may be per- 
 mitted to make his adieux to his friends." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TEN days later, and in the brightness of a December 
 afternoon which had still a touch of Indian summer mild- 
 ness, the two Athertons stood together on the deck of the 
 Clyde steamship bound from New York to Santo Domingo. 
 "With hatchways closed and ready for departure, she lay at 
 her pier, taking her last consignment in the form of pas- 
 sengers before sailing. Father and son each wore an air of 
 cheerfulness, assumed for the benefit of the other ; and in 
 the intervals of exchanging those last words which always 
 seem so inadequate, they watched with some surprise the
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 75 
 
 number of passengers arriving, accompanied by the usual 
 impedimenta of steamer trunks and deck-chairs. 
 
 " It begins to look as if Santo Domingo really formed a 
 part of the civilized world," observed Herbert presently. 
 " The steward tells me that every state -room is taken, and 
 these people are in appearance quite like the average of the 
 ordinary ocean-travelling public. I have felt as if I would 
 be setting sail for a place as distant, vague, and far removed 
 from the conditions of modern life as the Fortunate Isles ; 
 but the illusion begins to be shattered by these dapper men 
 of business, and these fashionable-looking women, with 
 their bouquets and attendant friends. One might fancy 
 one's self on the Majestic or the Umbria. Where are the 
 West Indian Creoles one would naturally expect to see, with 
 their picturesque languor and grace ?" 
 
 " There are some of them here, I think," said Mr. Ather- 
 ton. " I have seen several typical West Indian faces. On 
 the whole, I find the appearance of the passengers more 
 satisfactory than I expected, and I hope you may find some 
 companionable people among them." 
 
 " Doubtful," replied the young man, in a disparaging 
 tone, which was the result of his deep though concealed 
 depression of spirit. " But I am fortunately very indepen- 
 dent of companionship on an ocean voyage or elsewhere. 
 Ah, there is the signal for departure ! Good-by, my dear 
 father, good-by !" 
 
 " Good-by, my boy !" said the father huskily. ' God 
 bless you ! And, whatever you do, take care of yourself." 
 
 " I shall have nothing else to do, so don't be afraid of 
 my failing in that duty," answered the son, with an at- 
 tempt at cheerfulness. " God bless you, sir ; and again 
 good-by !" 
 
 It was as their hands unclasped and the father hurried
 
 76 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 away down the gang-plank that an echo of his last words 
 struck on Atherton's ear. 
 
 " Good-bj, my dear, good-by ! Take care of yourself, 
 and may God take care of you !" 
 
 These words, spoken close beside him, with a fervor of 
 accent uncommon even in such farewells, made him half 
 unconsciously look around to see who had uttered them. 
 His glance fell on a lady who was in the act of embracing 
 a slender, handsome boy of eighteen or nineteen years. 
 She seemed to restrain with great difficulty an inclination 
 to tears as she kissed him repeatedly. Then, saying ear- 
 nestly, " May you have the success your heroism de- 
 serves !" she turned to follow the rest of the shore-going 
 contingent down the gang-plank. 
 
 A few minutes later, as the ship moved slowly out of her 
 dock, a group composed of the friends of those on board 
 gathered at the end of the pier and waved their farewells 
 with many fluttering handkerchiefs. Apart from them, 
 however, stood two persons : one a gray-haired man, who 
 only watched, with a sadness he no longer made any attempt 
 to disguise, the tall, well-known form which carried away 
 with it his heart and hopes ; and the other a delicate, dark- 
 eyed lady, who on her part no longer restrained the tears 
 which dimmed her power of seeing the slender figure wav- 
 ing her so bravely a last farewell from the deck of the re- 
 ceding vessel. 
 
 When the wharf with these figures upon it finally disap- 
 peared from view, as the New York steamed down the bay, 
 Atherton turned from the rail against which he had been 
 leaning, in contemplation sad as that of his father ; and, 
 telling himself that the depression which weighed upon 
 him must be cast aside, began to pace the deck, to inhale 
 the sea-breeze which came from the vast ocean expanse
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 77 
 
 towards which they were hastening, and to make some at- 
 tempt to interest himself in observing the fellow-travellers 
 whom fate had granted him. 
 
 It was then that his glance fell again on the boy whom 
 he had before observed ; and he was struck by the dejec- 
 tion which his attitude expressed, as, standing at the ex- 
 treme end of the after-deck, with one arm passed around a 
 stanchion, he kept his face steadily turned towards the land 
 they were leaving. The pose of the young figure seemed 
 to Atherton to express a despondency almost akin to de- 
 spair ; and the droop of the head was suggestive of tears, 
 which might have dropped into the green brine below. 
 " Poor boy !" he thought, as he recalled the fervor of the 
 farewell he had overheard ; and then he remembered the 
 last words of the lady, which even in that moment had 
 faintly excited his surprise " May you have the success 
 which your heroism deserves !" 
 
 Heroism ! That was something uncommon ; and, glad 
 of anything to divert his thoughts, Atherton, as he paced 
 back and forth, cast curious glances now and again at the 
 slight, motionless figure, while idly wondering what form 
 the heroism in question took. Whatever it was, it cer- 
 tainly did not just now sustain a manifestly sinking heart. 
 But there is a wide difference between a sinking heart and 
 a sinking courage ; and Atherton, knowing this, felt his 
 sympathy so touched by the sadness of the lonely boy that 
 at last, pausing, he proved his interest by speaking. 
 
 " We are likely to have a fine night," he observed ; for 
 the sun was now sinking over the land in a clear bed of gold. 
 
 The boy started at the sound of his voice, and turned 
 towards him a face on which there was an almost offended 
 look. The expression surprised Atherton ; yet in the 
 midst of his surprise he was struck by the character of the
 
 78 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 countenance thus revealed its mingled delicacy and 
 strength, the virile resolution of the clear-cut mouth, the 
 feminine sweetness of the brow and eyes, the spirited intel- 
 ligence which breathed in every feature, and the striking 
 picturesqueness of the whole. As he gazed at it, saying to 
 himself, " What an attractive face !" its owner evidently 
 remembered that he had no cause for offence in the fact 
 that this gentleman had addressed him, and answered cold- 
 ly, yet courteously, as he looked away again : 
 
 " So it appears." * 
 
 It was now Atherton's turn to start ; for the voice which 
 replied would have been singularly sweet and refined even 
 for a woman, with an accent that could not be described as 
 foreign, yet which was clearly produced by the habitual 
 use of some speech more musical than English. Every one 
 knows that there is no more unmistakable indication of 
 character and breeding than the voice ; but there are some 
 persons peculiarly susceptible to the effect of these inflec- 
 tions and intonations which express so much, and Atherton 
 was one of those persons. His interest in his young fellow- 
 traveller was sensibly quickened by the discovery that he 
 possessed a voice altogether exquisite. But for this he 
 would probably have turned away from one so plainly in- 
 disposed to meet his advances ; as it was, he rather 
 surprised himself by making a second effort at conver- 
 sation. 
 
 ' That doesn't mean, however, that we may not find it 
 a little rough when we get outside. Are you a good sailor ?" 
 
 " I think I am rather a good sailor," the other replied, 
 still keeping his face turned away, and speaking with 
 marked reserve. " But this is my first long voyage, so I 
 am not sure." 
 
 ' Short voyages are worse than long ones for testing cer-
 
 THE MAX OP THE FAMILY. 79 
 
 tain sailing qualities," Atherton said. " Then you are not 
 a West Indian ?' ' 
 
 " No," was the quick reply, and the face turned towards 
 him again with a flashing look of interrogation. "Why 
 should you think so ?" 
 
 " I can hardly say that I thought so. Only this is a 
 West Indian ship, and your appearance and voice are sug- 
 gestive of something foreign." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then the boy replied 
 with an effort, as if disliking and resenting the necessity 
 to speak of himself : " I am from Louisiana." 
 
 " Ah, a French Creole !" said Atherton involuntarily. 
 " That accounts for the suggestion. Pray excuse me !" he 
 added. " I had no intention of making personal remarks, 
 but I am always interested in the study of national types ; 
 and am never brought into contact with a stranger that I 
 do not find myself at once mentally determining from what 
 branch of the human family he springs. There is usually 
 very little difficulty in deciding." 
 
 " I should think," said the boy, with the manner of one 
 who is drawn into talking against his will, " that to decide 
 at once would be quite difficult, unless you possessed a very 
 wide knowledge of the different types of humanity." 
 
 " On the contrary, a very moderate amount of the knowl- 
 edge derived from travel renders one quite familiar with 
 the marked types," Atherton answered ; " and their vari- 
 ous interminglings are readily traced. A glance is gener- 
 ally sufficient to enable me to ticket satisfactorily all those 
 whom I encounter. But, you see, there was more" than a 
 glance required to ticket you, " he added, smiling. 
 
 The other did not smile in reply. He hesitated a mo- 
 ment before answering, looking out again over the wide ex- 
 panse of tossing waters to the vanishing city and the pale
 
 80 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 winter sunset beyond ; and then saying abruptly, " You 
 will do me a favor if you will not attempt to ticket me at 
 all," he turned and walked quickly away. 
 
 It says much for Atherton's amiability that he was more 
 amused than indignant as he watched the slender young 
 figure hastening across the deck. In fact, he was conscious 
 of a sense of pity for the boy's folly and the mistake he 
 had made. For not to gauge accurately the quality of those 
 with whom the chances of life bring us into contact is to 
 be guilty sometimes of very great mistakes. Without en- 
 tertaining any undue sense of his own importance, Ather- 
 ton was thoroughly aware of the enviable position which 
 he occupied in the eyes of the world ; and was as well as- 
 sured that his advances would have been rebuffed by no 
 other passenger on board as that he would not have thought 
 of making them to any other. It was his custom to hold 
 aloof from all casual acquaintance, not so much from super- 
 ciliousness as from a fastidiousness, which made him slow 
 in choosing friends and associates. Indeed, according to 
 the invariable rule of such a temperament, his friends were 
 few and his associates generally characterized him as ' ' diffi- 
 cult to know." He was himself surprised at the impulse 
 which had prompted him to address this young stranger, 
 and he could not but smile at the unexpected repulse he 
 had received. 
 
 Naturally, however, he decided that he would hereafter 
 ignore one so ungracious ; therefore it was with surprise, 
 unmixed with pleasure, that on taking his place at the 
 dinner- table he found the seat on his right occupied by the 
 young Louisianian. The surprise was as great, the pleas- 
 ure evidently as little, on the side of the latter as on his 
 own. He glanced up quickly as the chair was swung 
 around ; and when he saw who dropped into it, a deep flush
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 81 
 
 mounted to his face and he looked away. It is probable 
 that he felt conscious and ashamed of his rudeness on thus 
 seeing the object of it beside him again ; but Atherton 
 read his manner otherwise, and his own face took an ex- 
 pression familiar to those who had at times made advances 
 which he did not care to receive, as he turned slightly in 
 his chair, so as to present his shoulder to the offender, and 
 began to examine the menu. 
 
 His order given, he glanced up and down the table, and, 
 with the practised eye of a man accustomed to much travel, 
 had no difficulty in determining the different types which 
 composed the thirty or forty human beings whose numbers 
 sea-sickness had not yet diminished. Half a dozen he at 
 once perceived belonged to the class of the omnipresent 
 German commercial traveller, who is overspreading all the 
 countries of the world and the islands of the sea. Another 
 group were distinctively West Indian quiet, olive-skinned 
 men, with great, slumberous, black eyes, who spoke Span- 
 ish among themselves. Only one showed in his chocolate- 
 colored complexion the trace of negro blood. Then came 
 a pair of alert young Americans, civil engineers, going 
 down to assist in the construction of a Dominican railway ; 
 a number of nondescript individuals, who might be either 
 tourists or possible investors, or both ; and finally several 
 ladies, who, as was to be learned by the conversation brisk- 
 ly carried on between them, were the wives and daughters 
 of planters residing on the island. 
 
 By the time dinner was nearly over the swell of the At- 
 lantic surge could be distinctly felt, and the steamer began 
 to swing to it in a manner which shortened the ceremony 
 of dining for several passengers. Atherton, quietly pro- 
 ceeding with his dessert, saw his right-hand neighbor turn- 
 ing pale, and was not surprised when he suddenly rose and
 
 82 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 left the table as abruptly as he had quitted him on deck. 
 He smiled with a slight sense of sardonic amusement. 
 " Not such a very good sailor, after all, my young friend !" 
 he thought. 
 
 A few minutes later, having finished his coffee, he went 
 on deck for a last glimpse of the lights of Sandy Hook. 
 The night was clear and sharply cold, but the briny breath 
 of the sea came to him with a sense of refreshment. As he 
 stood filling his lungs with it, the starlight of a radiant sky 
 revealed the wide expanse of tossing waves, which the 
 lights of the ship, gleaming across them, showed to be 
 foam-crested. There was a promise of boisterousness in 
 these racing, yeasty surges, which now and again leaped up 
 as if in wild sport, and smote the sides of the vessel, send- 
 ing aloft a shower of spray ; but as yet the sea was not 
 very rough, and Atherton paced the limited deck-space 
 with a sense of keen enjoyment. 
 
 Already he felt a reaction from the depression consequent 
 upon departure, and a conviction that the voyage alone 
 would do much for him. Although he had struggled 
 against it, he knew that this enforced rest was really what 
 he needed. Ever since his return from university life 
 abroad, he had been working too hard ambition with him 
 proving even a keener spur than the need of making money 
 with other men. And this intense application, this burn- 
 ing the candle of life at both ends, had developed the con* 
 stitutional weakness which else might never have appeared. 
 Now he must perforce rest ; and the keen, salt breath of 
 the sea seemed to scatter his dark forebodings of a life 
 doomed in its prime to invalid inaction, and to tell hint 
 that there was nothing wrong which Nature, the great 
 healer, could not restore without the help of other agencies. 
 
 He was not tempted to enter the smoking-room, where a
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 83 
 
 sound of tongues most of them speaking English with a 
 German accent testified to the love of talking, which is a 
 distinguishing characteristic of a large portion of the 
 human race. So he paced back and forth in the starlight, 
 with a renewal of that sense of pleasure in mere existence 
 which had been lost to him for some time. 
 
 It was in one of his turns around the deck that he pres- 
 ently observed the dark outlines of a figure sitting in a 
 chair placed under the shelter of the after-cabin. At first 
 he paid no attention to it ; but when he returned again 
 and yet again from a tramp which extended as far as the 
 bow of the ship, and had even taken in the hurricane deck, 
 to find the same figure still motionless in its place, he 
 began to wonder a little who was as fond of solitude as him- 
 self. In order to satisfy this faint curiosity, he dropped 
 into a vacant chair beside the other, that he might take 
 advantage of its shelter to strike a light for his cigar ; and, 
 as he struck it, glanced at the quiet figure. 
 
 A pair of large, startled eyes which seemed to him even 
 in this brief instant beautiful as those of a fawn met his 
 own, and he saw that, the lover of solitude was the boy 
 whom he had addressed before dinner. A certain sense of 
 vexation crossed his mind as he recognized him, mingled 
 with regret that he had taken the seat ; but to leave it now 
 with any abruptness would be to give to the incident of the 
 afternoon an importance which it did not deserve, and to 
 let an ill-mannered boy suppose that the rudeness had 
 power to affect him. He therefore remained quite still, 
 smoking placidly ; and had so far abstracted his thoughts 
 that he had almost forgotten the presence of his silent 
 companion, when the latter suddenly spoke. 
 
 " I think, Monsieur, that I owe you an apology," said 
 the sweet voice with the slight French accent which had
 
 84 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 charmed his ear when he heard it before. " I fear that I 
 was very rude when you spoke to me this afternoon. I did 
 not intend to be so. I only wanted just then to be alone 
 with my thoughts, aud so I hardly knew what I said." 
 
 " It was of no importance," answered Atherton, whose 
 sense of vexation melted away as if by magic under the in- 
 fluence of those exquisite tones. Just to keep that voice 
 sounding in his ear he would have forgiven a much greater 
 offence. " It was really my fault for disturbing you," he 
 continued. " I can only plead a good intention. I per- 
 ceived that you were feeling despondent, and I fancied a 
 little distraction might be good for you." 
 
 " I have thought since that perhaps what you meant was 
 a kindness, and that I was very ungracious," added the 
 boy. " But, you see, I did not take it in that way. I 
 only thought of you as presuming. " 
 
 " By Jove !" said Atherton to himself, too much aston- 
 ished for indignation. " What kind of a youngster can 
 this be ?" Aloud he said, in a tone of good-natured irony : 
 " Your royal highness must accept my apologies. It is 
 certainly not my habit to be ' presuming.' ' 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then the boy said, 
 catching his breath a little : 
 
 " I am afraid I have been rude again. I should not have 
 used that word. Of course it strikes you as absurd." 
 
 " Rather, I confess," Atherton replied, a little dryly. 
 " Naturally, I don't know how exalted your rank may be ; 
 but unless it is very exalted and I have never heard that 
 there are princes in Louisiana you are undoubtedly guilty 
 of absurdity in thinking that a man presumes because he 
 addresses you without an introduction." 
 
 " You are right I see that now," said the boy hastily, 
 with a humility in bis tones which was strikingly at vari-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 85 
 
 ance with the suggestion of arrogance in the objectionable 
 word. "You must excuse me. I forget many things 
 which I should remember. I will endeavor not to forget 
 again that I am only an insignificant boy, whose loneliness 
 you pitied, and who should have been grateful for your 
 kindness instead of repulsing it." 
 
 Again Atherton felt any possible anger disarmed by 
 those accents, which seemed breathed like music out of 
 the darkness. 
 
 " I think," he said, " that if you will take the advice of 
 a man a good deal older than yourself, you will be slow to 
 repulse any one until quite sure that such repulse is de- 
 served. Otherwise you will make many enemies, and per- 
 haps lose some friends. And one just entering upon life 
 can hardly afford to begin by either making the one or los- 
 ing the other." 
 
 ' ' ' Hast thou a thousand friends, it is not enough ; hast 
 thou one enemy, it is too much,' " murmured the boy, as if 
 to himself. " Yes, your advice is good ; and I really have 
 sense enough to know it of myself. But when you ad- 
 dressed me I was feeling so miserable that I resented any in- 
 trusion upon my wretchedness." 
 
 Now, this was not at all the confession to be expected of 
 a potential hero. But so strongly did the witchery of the 
 voice continue to assert itself, that Atherton felt more than 
 ever attracted to the speaker. 
 
 " I fancied that was how you felt," he said after a brief 
 pause, " and since I was feeling low-spirited myself, I was 
 more inclined to sympathize with you. Are you alone ?" 
 
 " Entirely alone. I have not even an acquaintance on 
 board, and a little while ago I should have said that I did 
 not desire one." 
 
 " I may suppose, then, that you would not say so now ?"
 
 86 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " No. I am not sorry to know you, who, I think, are 
 kind ; but I shrink from the thought of indiscriminate ac- 
 quaintance, and I hope I may be left alone." 
 
 " There is not much difficulty generally in being left 
 alone," observed Atherton, smiling under cover of the dark- 
 ness at the thought of what an opinion of his own impor- 
 tance the boy must have. " Unless one has something very 
 remarkable to distinguish one, the world is, as a rule, only 
 too ready to leave one alone." 
 
 " That again is true," the other replied ; " and I should 
 not have needed to be reminded of it. You must think 
 me very foolish, but I I need a little time to adjust my- 
 self to a new situation. I have never been alone before, 
 and I am going into a strange country with a responsibility 
 upon me which is rather trying." 
 
 " You are very young to have responsibility thrown 
 upon you," said Atherton, recalling the words which had 
 first attracted his attention to the speaker. 
 
 " Young or old, we must not shirk our burdens ; espe- 
 cially if there is no one else to take them up," the other 
 answered with a sigh. " And so, having many things to 
 think of, I hoped that no one on board would notice me, 
 and that I should have the time of the voyage to consider 
 my plans. This is why I was so startled and, I confess, 
 annoyed when you addressed me." 
 
 ''Well," said Atherton, "I am glad you have been so 
 frank. Hereafter I promise that I will not address you 
 unless you take the initiative ; and I do not think you have 
 much annoyance of the kind to fear from the other pas- 
 sengers. My impression is that you will be left as much 
 alone as you can possibly desire." 
 
 There was a few minutes' pause. The motion of the 
 vessel had now very much increased, and she was swinging
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 87 
 
 to the fast roughening sea in a manner calculated to prove 
 very trying to a landsman. The boy presently observed, 
 in a low voice : 
 
 " I seem to say nothing but ungracious things, and yet I 
 don't mean them. Perhaps when I feel better I shall be 
 able to express myself better. Just now I I think I shall 
 go to my state room. Good-night, and pray believe that I 
 am not ungrateful for your kindness." 
 
 He rose as he spoke, but a sudden lurch of the ship sent 
 him reeling back into his seat. 
 
 " Take care !" said Atherton. " If you don't want to 
 sustain an injury, it is necessary to be careful on shipboard 
 until you get your sea-legs. Where is your room ? I'll 
 help you to it." 
 
 " Oh, thanks !" said the other, hastily ; " but I think I 
 can manage to reach it alone. I will be more careful. " 
 
 He rose again ; and, this time keeping his feet and bal- 
 ancing himself with the roll of the vessel, he passed around 
 the cabin and out of sight. Atherton rose also ; and 
 walking slowly forward, thought : 
 
 " What a remarkable boy !" 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ROUGH and boisterous were the seas which the New 
 York encountered as she passed Hatteras, of stormy fame ; 
 and few were the passengers who did not more or less suc- 
 cumb to the dreaded malady which lies in wait for those 
 who go down upon the deep in ships. Atherton was not 
 surprised that for two days he had no furl her glimpse of
 
 88 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 the boy who so much interested him ; nor that when he 
 met him on the third day he was looking very pale, as he 
 lay back in a deck-chair gazing at the sea, which, now com- 
 paratively smooth and brilliantly blue, spread its tossing 
 waves to the far horizon. His appearance, at once so deli- 
 cate and so lonely, revived the sympathy which Atherton 
 had first felt, and brought his steps involuntarily to a pause 
 in front of him. 
 
 " Good-morning !" he said ; " I believe it was agreed 
 when we parted that the initiative in any further inter- 
 course should come from you, but I may be permitted to 
 inquire how you are feeling. You have evidently suffered 
 from the rough weather of the last two days ?" 
 
 " Very much," the boy replied, looking up with a smile 
 at the tall figure standing over him. " I was very sea- sick, 
 and I am still feeling the effects of it. I find that I am 
 not a good sailor at all. And you have you been well ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes ! I am an old yachtsman, used to the rough- 
 est tumbling Neptune can give. You needn't fancy your- 
 self a bad sailor, however, because you have felt the weather 
 of the past two days. It has been uncommonly nasty." 
 
 " Yes ; but to-day makes amends. Is it not glorious ? 
 This is, indeed, Byron's ' deep and dark-blue ocean.' " 
 
 ' ' So you know ' Childe Harold ' !" said Atherton, 
 drawing forward another chair and dropping into it. 
 " That is a little uncommon with the youth of the present 
 day. Which is a pity. For the morbidness of that inter- 
 esting exile was healthfulness itself compared to the mor- 
 bidness of fin de si&cle verse-makers ; and the poetry is 
 magnificent." 
 
 " It seems so to me," said the boy. " As I have sat 
 here watching the waves in their long, ceaseless rolling, 
 those lines ran constantly in my mind :
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 89 
 
 " ' Roll on, thou deep and dark-blue ocean roll 1 
 Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
 Man marks the earth with ruin his control 
 Stops with the shore : upon the watery plain 
 The wrecks are all thy deed ; nor doth remain 
 A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
 When for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
 He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan. 
 Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.' " 
 
 Familiar as the stanza was to Atherton, it seemed to him 
 that he had never heard it before, so much did the noble 
 measure gain from the music of the tones which uttered it. 
 Gazing out over that majestic expanse of waters, which 
 since the birth of time has never been wholly stilled, the 
 speaker, as if he forgot his listener and only gratified him- 
 self by uttering aloud the lines which haunted him, recited 
 them with a melody of intonation, a depth and perfection 
 of expression, which justified Ather ton's exclamation : 
 
 " What a voice you have ' Where did you learn to re- 
 cite like that ?" 
 
 The boy turned his face towards him with a surprised 
 look. 
 
 " Was it at all extraordinary ?" he asked. " I only spoke 
 as I felt. The music of the verses seemed the only fit ex- 
 pression for the feeling which the sea excites." 
 
 ' ' I should have said that only a poet or an actor could 
 have spoken them as you did," Atherton replied ; " while 
 few poets and not a great many actors possess such a voice. 
 You are really a very astonishing boy. If I might hazard 
 a guess, you have been brought up by a woman, and a 
 woman of singular intelligence and refinement." 
 
 " Yes," was the quiet reply ; " my mother is all that." 
 
 " And you are perhaps the only boy in a family of 
 girls?"
 
 90 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Eight again" and now for the first time Atherton 
 heard him utter a low, musical laugh. " I have three sis- 
 ters, but I am the only man of the family." 
 
 " That accounts for your feminine ways, and also for the 
 fact that you seem to look at things in general in a manner 
 rather unlike what one wpuld expect in a boy." 
 
 " I hope you don't think that I am a milksop ?" asked 
 the boy anxiously. 
 
 It was Atherton's turn to laugh. 
 
 " Oh, no !" he answered. " If I had thought that I 
 should not have mentioned the feminine ways. It is the 
 bravest men who sometimes have most of the woman in them ; 
 and refined natures often dare more than coarse ones, because 
 they can feel the incentive of a higher motive. Indeed, 
 I should not be surprised" he spoke deliberately " if you 
 proved a hero." 
 
 As he had anticipated, the last word made his companion 
 start. He turned around in his chair, and his face was 
 quite pale as he asked : 
 
 " What do you mean ? Why do you say that ?" 
 
 " To be frank with you," Atherton answered, " because 
 I have already heard heroism attributed to you. Don't 
 look so startled. It was only by the lady who bade you 
 good-by on board the day we left. I was standing close 
 beside you, and I could not avoid hearing her say that she 
 wished you ' the success your heroism deserved.' That 
 first drew my attention to you. One does not sail with a 
 hero every day, you know." 
 
 There was a short interval of silence, and then : 
 
 " My cousin for the lady you mention was my cousin 
 spoke extravagantly," said the boy. " It seemed to her 
 heroic that I should undertake this voyage, and and also 
 some matters at the end of it. But there is really nothing
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 91 
 
 heroic in it at all. There was nobody but me to go. As I 
 have said, I am the only man of the family." 
 
 If Atherton thought the family not very well provided 
 which had only this man to depend upon, he was far from 
 uttering the thought to one for whom he felt a deepening 
 attraction. 
 
 " I should like," he said after a pause, " to know your 
 name." 
 
 " My name" the other hesitated for a moment " is 
 Henri de Marsillac." 
 
 " Quite a fitting name for a hero," said Atherton. " It 
 sounds romantic enough to suggest all manner of heroic 
 adventures." 
 
 " It was the name of my great-great-grandfather/' was 
 the quiet reply ; " but I never heard that he had any spe- 
 cially romantic or heroic adventures, although he died tragi- 
 cally enough. He was a planter in the French colony of 
 Santo Domingo, and was killed in the insurrection of the 
 slaves." 
 
 " Then you have a connection, and a very close one, 
 with the island you are about to visit." 
 
 " Yes," answered the other, and then paused. He was 
 evidently not to be drawn into any personal details ; and 
 Atherton, whose interest in him was different from the 
 curiosity which desires to know such details simply for the 
 sake of knowing them, saw this, and changed the subject. 
 
 " What a history that island has had !" he said musing- 
 ly. " The cradle of the New World ; the Hispaniola of 
 Columbus ; the disputed battle-ground for centuries of 
 Spaniards, French, and English ; ravaged by buccaneers, 
 baptized in blood ; swept a hundred times by fire and 
 sword ; the theatre of constant warfare, culminating at last 
 in massacre without a parallel, and in its fairest portion
 
 92 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 being abandoned into the hands of African savages. Yet 
 it still remains as fair, as productive, and as undeveloped as 
 when the keels of the caravels first cut its shining waters, 
 and the eyes of the immortal discoverer first rested upon 
 the beauty of its heights." 
 
 " You are familiar with it?" asked the boy, looking at 
 him a little curiously as he lay back in his chair gazing out 
 over the blue, flashing surges ; as if in fancy he saw the 
 caravels before him, and the figure of the heroic admiral 
 standing in the prow of his flag-ship, searching with eager 
 eyes for the desired land. 
 
 " No," he answered, " I have never seen it ; but I have 
 lately been reading much about it, and what I have read 
 has fired my fancy exceedingly. I really think I shall en- 
 joy a sojourn which at first wore only the aspect of a dis- 
 agreeable exile." 
 
 " Is it to the Spanish part of the island you are going ?" 
 the boy asked, after some hesitation. 
 
 " My immediate destination is Santo Domingo city, the 
 capital of the Spanish part of the island," Atherton re- 
 plied. " My further destination is a certain sugar estate, 
 into the affairs and management of which I have a commis- 
 sion to inquire. I should like to take you along with me," 
 he added, with a smile. " Since you come from Louisiana, 
 you ought to know something about sugar, while I know 
 absolutely nothing." 
 
 " I know a great deal about sugar," the other answered 
 simply. " At home I manage a sugar estate." 
 
 " You !" 
 
 " I. Why not ?" 
 
 " Well, really there is no reason why not, except that 
 you look rather young for such responsibility," Athertou 
 replied. " Suppose, then, that you continue your journey
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 93 
 
 with me to the sugar estate and give me the benefit of your 
 knowledge ?" 
 
 " I leave the ship at the Cape/' was the serious reply. 
 " My business is in Hayti." 
 
 " I hope it is not business which will take you into the 
 interior of the country ; for by all accounts it is not safe 
 there." 
 
 The other shrugged his shoulders. Plainly he had no 
 intention of being expansive on the subject of his business. 
 
 " One cannot stop to think of risks," he said ; then add- 
 ed : "If you know nothing of the raising or making of 
 sugar, why do you undertake to examine the affairs of a 
 sugar estate ?" 
 
 " I am," said Atherton, " one of those unfortunates 
 who, being under sentence -of death, have a partial reprieve 
 given them by the judges whom we call doctors, in the form 
 of an order to go and live in a warm climate. Hence I am 
 going to the West Indies ; and my choice of Santo Domin- 
 go is determined by the fact of the existence of the sugar 
 estate, which, ignorant as I am of sugar affairs, affords me 
 at least the shadow of an interest and an occupation of 
 both of which I am greatly in need." 
 
 The boy looked at him with an expression of quick com- 
 passion in his face. 
 
 " Are you in earnest ?" he asked. " Do you mean that 
 you are under sentence of death in in any immediate 
 sense ?" 
 
 " Sometimes I think that it is in a very immediate sense. 
 Then again I listen to the voice of Hope speaking through the 
 doctors, and telling me that if I live for two years in a warm 
 climate I shall be cured, or at least reprieved for an indefi- 
 nite length of time. Left to myself, I should not have lis- 
 tened to them ; I should have positively refused the rdle of
 
 94 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 an invalid health-seeker and preferred to make shorter work 
 of dying. But I have a father, who is not only devoted to 
 me, but of whom I am the only child. It is for his sake 
 that I have followed the advice of the medical gentlemen 
 and that I am here." 
 
 " You were right," said the boy, with an air of decision 
 that sat strangely upon his youthfulness. " Even if you 
 had believed there was no possible good in it, you should 
 have consented for the sake of your father. But there 
 must be good in it. You have no look of an invalid. " 
 
 " I sincerely hope not," replied Atherton. " But this 
 enforced exile is hard on my father too. He will miss me 
 very much." 
 
 " He would miss you still more if you obstinately stayed 
 at home and died," rejoined the other. " Does he live in 
 New York ?" 
 
 " My father ? He may be said to live everywhere. His 
 business extends from San Francisco to New York, and he 
 has headquarters in both cities. If you -read newspapers 
 much you have probably seen his name now and then. It 
 is George Atherton." 
 
 " I think I have seen it. He is what is called a railroad 
 and bonanza king, isn't he ?" 
 
 " Some such foolish term is sometimes applied to him. 
 He is simply a man who has large interests in railroads and 
 mines, and has made a great deal of money out of both. I 
 am rather proud of my father. He is of sturdy English 
 stock, and was hardly more than a boy when he came out 
 from the old country and went to California, in what are 
 known as 'the flush times.' Without any advantages of 
 capital or friends, by sheer pluck and intelligence, and per- 
 haps some luck one must give fortune its due he suc- 
 ceeded from the first. He was rather advanced in life
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 95 
 
 when he married my mother who, now, that I think of 
 it, was a countrywoman of yours : at least her people came 
 from New Orleans and after her early death he never 
 married again. From that time he has lived for only two 
 things business and me. Determined to equip me for the 
 race of life with every advantage, he sent me abroad to an 
 English, then to a German, university ; and when I came 
 back no one could have been more delighted than he that I 
 had no will, because he is so rich a man, to be an idler. 
 And indeed I am too much his son for idling to be to my 
 taste. I threw all my energy, all my ambition into my 
 work ; and all that I desired was opening before me when 
 the blow fell. ' Drop everything ; go away for two years ! ' 
 The doctors said it glibly, but it was worse than a death- 
 sentence to me. It was a sentence to a death-in-life, which 
 I had always dreaded more than death itself." 
 
 The speaker paused, his voice dropping at the last words, 
 as he gazed from under the rim of his cap straight out over 
 the boundless leagues of shimmering water. He had for a 
 moment forgotten the companion to whom he had been 
 speaking, in the sudden wave of bitterness roused by the 
 thought of his enforced exile, of his thwarted ambition ; 
 and it was a sigh breathed by that companion which made 
 him glance around. He never forgot the look of exquisite 
 pity and sympathy which was shining upon him from the 
 beautiful hazel eyes. 
 
 " How sorry I am for you !" the boy exclaimed. " Do 
 you mind my saying that ? I know that there are people 
 who do not like to be pitied. But it seems so hard to 
 have everything that life can give, and to be obliged to 
 drop it all and go away, with such a fear in your thoughts. 
 Oh, how many different kinds of trouble there are in the 
 world !"
 
 96 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Very many, indeed," said Atherton. " But although 
 I am not one of the people who object to being pitied, I 
 must not take your pity under false pretences at least not 
 too much of it. When I am despondent I think of falling 
 into lifelong invalidism, if I live at all. But at other 
 times I believe that I shall get well, and that the two years 
 I shall lose will be all. I have determined to live for that 
 time the life of Nature to exist as much as possible like 
 an animal in the open air and I think Nature will cure 
 me. I have solemnly thrown physic to the dogs." 
 
 " Which is good," said the boy, smiling. " I believe 
 that Nature will cure you, as this delicious sea-air has cured 
 my sea-sickness. For there is the luncheon bell, and I 
 really feel as if I can once more face the table." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WITHIN the next few days the friendly intimacy of the 
 two travellers advanced apace. They were almost constant 
 companions, to the exclusion of all other companionship 
 on the part of either. Sitting for hours on deck, their 
 chairs drawn together, each with a book which neither 
 read very much, they sometimes talked, their talk wander- 
 ing over many wide and various fields ; or lay back dream- 
 ily, drinking in the beauty of the marvellous, restless plain 
 of flashing waters, which deepened in tint with every on- 
 ward league toward the tropics, until at last it became an 
 unimaginable expanse of lapis-lazuli, dazzling, sparkling, 
 impossible to describe, filling the wide sea-circle with the 
 long liftings of its gentle swell, fanned by the warm breath 
 of the trade winds.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 97 
 
 Most of the passengers fancied that they were relatives, 
 or at least travelling companions the tall, fair, languid 
 man and the dark, delicate, picturesque boy ; but there 
 was no opportunity to put these conjectures to the proof 
 by questioning. The genial, talkative Germans ; the young 
 engineers, who bloomed out in white duck suits as soon as 
 the weather gave the least encouragement ; and the inquisi- 
 tive tourists or possible investors, with strong nasal voices 
 which had a penetrating quality that carried their sound 
 from one end of the deck to the other all passed them by 
 as hopelessly "unsociable;" while the feminine contin- 
 gent, remarking among themselves that they looked " in- 
 teresting," had no chance to determine whether this inter- 
 est existed in more than appearance. 
 
 " The captain says that we shall be at Turk's Island to- 
 morrow morning," said Atherton, as he dropped into his 
 chair beside De Marsillac on the sixth day of the voyage 
 a day like a flawless jewel in its splendor. The voyage had 
 now become a kind of lotus-eating. The long lift of the 
 waves, the warm caress of the wind, the soft whispering of 
 the sea, all lulled to repose : a quietude made for dreams. 
 And such dreams were in the eyes of the boy who looked 
 now with a start from the entrancing azure of sea and sky 
 to the face of the speaker. 
 
 "Shall we?" he asked, adding involuntarily: " I am 
 sorry." 
 
 " Are you ? Why ?" 
 
 " Because the ocean grows more beautiful every day, and 
 the voyage more pleasant. Also because, if we are to be at 
 Turk's Island to-morrow, we shall reach the Cape the day 
 after." 
 
 " And you regret that ? Most persons are glad to reach 
 their destination."
 
 98 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 The other did not answer immediately. He looked back 
 at the flashing blue plain, which spread its billowy leagues 
 to the farthest verge of the horizon ; and Atherton ob- 
 served that a shadow seemed to fall over the sensitive face. 
 
 " I am afraid I am not so brave as I have fancied," he 
 said presently, in a low tone. " I find myself shrinking 
 from the unknown and the difficult, now that they are 
 close at hand." 
 
 It was then Atherton's turn to be silent for a moment 
 a moment in which he reflected again, as he had reflected 
 before, how strangely reserved as well as how strangely at- 
 tractive was this remarkable boy. Close as had been their 
 association for several days that association of shipboard 
 which with most people has the effect of immediately un- 
 loosening the tongue upon all their private affairs he had 
 let drop no word to indicate the nature of the business 
 which was taking him to a place so remote as Hayti. On 
 the contrary, he bad carefully avoided anything which 
 might lead to the subject, and his present expression of 
 shrinking reluctance was the first indication either of the 
 nature of his mysterious errand or the feelings with which 
 he regarded it. Slight as it was, however, it was quite 
 enough to excite Atherton's concern, already vaguely 
 stirred. 
 
 " Would you object," he said suddenly, " to telling me 
 the nature of the business upon which you are bound ? I 
 think you must be aware that I do not ask the ques- 
 tion from idle curiosity or any desire to pry into your 
 affairs. But I really fear that you may have in view some- 
 thing rash, if not dangerous ; and, being so much older 
 than you are, I feel that I might give you the benefit of my 
 experience of the world in the form of advice." 
 
 Somewhat to his surprise, De Marsillac looked at him
 
 THE MAH OF THE FAMILY. 99 
 
 with a grateful expression in the frank, clear eyes he had 
 come to know so well. 
 
 "It is kind of you to speak in this manner/' he an- 
 swered. " I have thought of asking your advice on some 
 practical points before we part ; for I am sure you are to 
 be trusted." 
 
 " I think that I am," said Atherton, smiling. " At 
 least I cannot imagine the temptation which would induce 
 me to betray your trust. I am right, then : you are going 
 upon some rash enterprise ?" 
 
 " I suppose you will think it so. I am going" he sent 
 a quick glance around to bo sure that no one was within 
 earshot " to seek some money which my great-great- 
 grandfather he of whom I told you, who was killed by the 
 insurgent slaves buried before he left his home." 
 
 " Good Heavens !" exclaimed Atherton, startled. " Do 
 you really mean it ? This is worse than 1 feared a more 
 rash and dangerous enterprise. My dear boy, the thing is 
 impossible ! How could you have dreamed of attempting 
 it you, alone ?" 
 
 " Because, as I have already told you, there was no one 
 else to attempt it," the boy answered quietly. " It was 
 for me to go, or for that money to remain hopelessly lost 
 where Henri de Marsillac placed it a century ago." 
 
 " Men will risk a great deal for money/' said Atherton, 
 gravely ; " but I confess I am surprised that one so young 
 as you should be willing to undertake so much for it ; un- 
 less, indeed, it is the romance of the thing that has at- 
 tracted you. A boy's imagination is easily fired by a sug- 
 gestion of hidden treasure." 
 
 The face of the particular boy in question suddenly grew 
 cold, as if he withdrew within himself ; and his voice had 
 a plainly offended accent when he spoke :
 
 100 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " I have not thought of this money as a treasure, but 
 simply as a sum deposited by its owner does it matter 
 whether in a bank or in the earth ? for the benefit of 
 his rightful heirs. There is no romance in the search for it 
 which I have undertaken ; and if you think me mercenary 
 because I am willing to run all risks to obtain it, I can 
 only say that it is easy to despise money when one pos- 
 sesses it." 
 
 With the last words he rose and walked away. 
 
 Atherton was so much astonished by this abrupt depar- 
 ture, and by the equally abrupt end of his confidence which 
 it intimated, that he sat quite still and silent, staring after 
 the young figure which walked down the deck and disap- 
 peared into the cabin. Then a pang of self-reproach seized 
 him. He had repelled the boy's confidence that confidence 
 so tardily, yet at last so readily given and had wounded 
 his feelings besides. What a mistake to speak as he had 
 done, if he indeed desired to influence the lad ! Nothing, 
 he now perceived, could have been better calculated to 
 offend than the imputation of a mercenary motive in the 
 first instance, and of a romantic imagination in the second. 
 
 " One is very much of a fool sometimes," he remarked 
 meditatively to himself. " I should have remembered the 
 susceptibility of a youthful spirit. And, apart from the 
 unwisdom of uttering them, my remarks were foolish in 
 themselves. For whether it is merely a desire for money 
 which, as he observed, it is no doubt easier to despise 
 when one possesses than when one lacks it or whether in 
 reality his imagination has been fired by romantic dreams 
 of buried treasure, one thing is at least certain : he has the 
 courage of a paladin in that delicate frame of his, and he 
 will risk his life in this wild search unless some one inter- 
 feres. Now, I am the only person who can interfere ; for
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 101 
 
 I am the only person he is at all likely to admit into his 
 confidence. So it behooves me to apologize at once, and 
 endeavor to retrieve the mistake I have committed." 
 
 But, like many a man before, Athertoii was to discover 
 that it is easier to commit a mistake than to retrieve it. 
 For one thing, repentance is not always accepted ; and for 
 another, opportunity for apology may not be given. When 
 he went into luncheon he found the chair on his right 
 vacant, and vacant it remained throughout the meal. Its 
 emptiness increased his regret ; and on his return to the 
 deck he paused beside a closed window which he knew to 
 be that of De Marsillac's state-room, and lightly knocked. 
 
 " Who is there ?" asked a quick, startled voice within. 
 
 " It is I Atherton," he replied. " Come out on deck. 
 The day is too divine to lose an hour of it, and I have 
 much to say to you." 
 
 " I cannot come," the voice responded. " I I have a 
 headache. I am lying down." 
 
 " Shall I come in and talk to you a little ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, no thanks ! When I have a headache I must 
 be quiet and alone." 
 
 " Well," in a disappointed tone, " in that case I will not 
 trouble you ; but I hope you'll feel better after awhile_and 
 come out." 
 
 An inarticulate murmur answered him, but a murmur 
 which evidently contained no promise of coming out ; and, 
 after waiting a few moments longer, he quietly walked 
 away. 
 
 " Odd," he thought, as he settled himself in his chair 
 with a cigar, " how much that boy's voice is like a woman's. 
 Any one who did not know the contrary would have sworn 
 that there was a woman behind that blind. And there was 
 a suggestion of tears in the voice too. I wonder if he could
 
 102 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 have taken my words to heart to that extent ? It seems 
 incredible, and yet he is a queer boy ! I must manage 
 to make matters up with him at all costs before we reach 
 the Cape." 
 
 De Marsillac's headache allowed him to appear at dinner, 
 but he was very silent ; and when afterwards Atherton and 
 himself went on deck, where day had given place to night 
 with tropical rapidity, an air of reserve still hung about 
 him, which made it a little difficult to return to the subject 
 of the morning. When they were again established in their 
 respective chairs on the after-deck, however, Atherton de- 
 termined that the interrupted confidence should be resumed, 
 and at once led the conversation in that direction. 
 
 " I am afraid," he began, " that you thought me un- 
 sympathetic this morning when you told me the nature of 
 your business in Hayti. But you were a little hasty in that 
 conclusion. I was in reality deeply concerned I may say 
 shocked to find that you had such a project in view, and it 
 was the expression of this feeling which you misunderstood." 
 
 " It does not matter," the boy replied somewhat coldly. 
 " There was no reason why I should have expected sympa- 
 thy from you. One should not talk of one's private affairs 
 to strangers. The mistake was mine." 
 
 " The mistake is yours now," said Athertou, with some 
 energy. " If I seemed unsympathetic to your confidence 
 this morning, you are now repulsing a very sincere interest 
 or attempting to do so. But I have no intention of 
 allowing it to be repulsed. I apologize for anything which 
 I may have said inadvertently to offend you, and acknowl- 
 edge that I was foolish to attempt to criticise motives of 
 which I knew nothing." 
 
 There was a silence. De Marsillac did not answer at 
 once, but kept his face turned from his companion towards
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 103 
 
 the vast beauty of the night, throbbing with the deep 
 pulsations of the ocean, and the radiant glory of myriad 
 stars shining out of the great arch of purple heaven above. 
 Caressing winds breathed about the ship as she sped on- 
 ward ; while the low murmur of the seas through which 
 she cut her way was like the whispering of soft voices an 
 infinitely lulling sound. The spell of the night seemed to 
 lie over the wide world of waters, hushing them to a deeper 
 repose than that which they had known by day, and per- 
 haps penetrating also into the spirit of the boy. At least, 
 when he spoke at last it was in an altered and gentler voice. 
 
 " If I was a little wounded by your criticism, it was be- 
 cause you seemed to believe that I was either actuated by a 
 love of money or by a foolish romance in undertaking to 
 recover what my great- great-grandfather endeavored to 
 secure from robbery for his descendants. But I fail to 
 perceive what there is in my enterprise which should make 
 either of these motives appear to you a matter of course. 
 Even if I had no special need of this money, would I not 
 be very foolish if I made no effort to recover it ? You are, 
 it seems, a very wealthy man, Mr. Atherton ; but if you 
 heard of such a deposit, to which you had an undoubted 
 and lawful right, would you not make an effort to ob- 
 tain it ?" 
 
 " That would depend, I think, upon the probabilities of 
 the case," Atherton answered. " I should need to be 
 very certain in the first place that the deposit in question 
 existed " 
 
 " I am certain. Presently, if you care to hear, I will 
 tell you why." 
 
 " Then I should desire to be assured of at least a fair 
 probability of success in my efforts to recover it. Now, my 
 dear boy, what probability is there of your success ? Have
 
 104 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 you thought of all the practical difficulties surrounding 
 your task ?" 
 
 The other uttered a low, rather sad laugh, as he re- 
 peated : 
 
 " Have I thought of them ! I have thought of little else 
 since I first learned of this thing. They are great, I ad- 
 mit ; but have you ever heard of any other way of over- 
 coming difficulties than by meeting them ?" 
 
 " There is no other way," Atherton agreed. " But they 
 must be met with prudence as well as with courage in 
 order to overcome them. Yet here you are alone, going 
 to seek money which your ancestor buried a hundred years 
 ago in an island which has been ever since in the hands of 
 the negroes whose revolt made the concealment necessary. 
 Do you suppose they would allow you to carry away any 
 treasure found in the country, however clear your right to 
 it might be ?" 
 
 " No, I do not suppose so, and therefore I know it is 
 necessary that the search should be made secretly." 
 
 " And how do you propose to do this ? Have you friends 
 on the island ?" 
 
 " Certainly not. I have only myself to rely upon ; yet, 
 nevertheless, I believe that I shall succeed. If my motive 
 were either the mercenary or the romantic one with which 
 you credit me " 
 
 " Do not say that I I have retracted my hasty opinion 
 for judgment it was not and I am sure that your mo- 
 tive is worthy of the courage which supports it." 
 
 " I do not think that any one could have a better," said 
 the boy in a low tone. "But what I was about to say is 
 this that, were my motive no higher than those of which 
 you spoke, I might, in the face of the great difficulties 
 which confront me, believe success impossible and my efforts
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 105 
 
 foredoomed to failure ; but since it is a motive which 
 makes me feel, like Sir Galahad, that 
 
 " ' My strength is as the strength of ten,' 
 
 I firmly believe that I shall succeed. I believe that as I 
 found at a moment of supreme necessity the paper, hidden 
 for a hundred years, which told of this treasure, if you care 
 to call it so, I shall also find at my need the means to carry 
 out my undertaking. It sounds fanciful, superstitious per- 
 haps ; and yet it is surely neither fanciful nor superstitious 
 to believe that God helps those who have faith in Him, 
 and who earnestly ask His aid." 
 
 Again what haunting music in the tones which uttered 
 these words, as the speaker looked out over the cradling, 
 whispering waters of the mysterious, encompassing sea ! 
 The strange magic of the voice touched and stirred Ather- 
 ton in a manner he could not understand. There seemed 
 in it a suggestion of all things noble, generous and tender. 
 He thought of the mother and sisters of this lad who had 
 set forth, like a knight-errant indeed, with resolve so high 
 and hope so dauntless, upon a quest so difficult. The 
 cousin had been right who had prayed he might have the 
 success his heroism deserved. It was heroism, no less ; 
 and if it was also folly well, heroism is often but a touch 
 removed from that which the cold and prudent of the world 
 call by the other name. This Atherton knew well ; but, 
 even while he recognized the possible folly, his heart thrilled 
 to the heroic spirit. He suddenly extended his hand, and 
 laid a light, firm touch on the other's arm. 
 
 " I think it neither fanciful nor superstitious to believe 
 that you will find the means to carry out your undertak- 
 ing," he said. " We must give the matter careful consid- 
 eration in the time remaining before you reach the Cape,
 
 106 THE MAH OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 and form the outline of some plan which on landing you 
 can endeavor to carry into effect with what modification 
 circumstances demand." 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 WAKING next morning to find themselves anchored off 
 a low, white, palm-dotted coast, around which the waves 
 were flashing over hidden reefs ; with a brilliant clear- 
 ness in the atmosphere, an ardent warmth in the sunshine, 
 and a deeper blue, if possible, upon the wide expanse of 
 ocean, the passengers of the New York were assured of 
 being at last well within the tropics. . It was the island of 
 Grand Turk which lay before them a line of foliage-em- 
 bowered houses fringing its beach, and in the interior a 
 ridge of barren-looking hills. The accommodation-ladder 
 was let down the side of the ship ; boats from the shore lay 
 around the foot of it waiting for passengers, and various 
 parties for going ashore were formed as soon as breakfast 
 was over. 
 
 " Shall we go, Henri?" asked Atherton, turning to the 
 boy whom he had begun to address familiarly in this fash- 
 ion. " Turk's Island does not probably offer anything of 
 a very interesting nature to sightseers, but we can at least 
 stretch our legs on land and vary a little the monotony of 
 a day which I believe is to be spent lying here." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I think we should certainly go !" the other re- 
 plied, with an inflection of young eagerness in his voice. 
 
 " Come, then," said Atherton, casting a critical eye over 
 the boats, and motioning to the oarsmen of one which 
 looked particularly smart and clean in a coat of white and
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 107 
 
 blue paint, to draw near for them. A little later they were 
 rapidly rowed over the mile of sparkling water that lay be- 
 tween the ship and the line of dazzling shore ; the boat 
 was steered in to the steps of the wooden pier, they land- 
 ed, and were presently walking along the glaring white 
 sands of Turk's Island, taking in comprehensively the line 
 of small wooden buildings on one side, and the wide ocean 
 prospect on the other. "And now," said Atherton, "if 
 we are to play the part of sightseers, we must find the 
 salt works which are the chief industry of the island ; after 
 having seen which we can with a clear conscience devote 
 ourselves to idling." 
 
 They were not long in finding signs of the principal in- 
 dustry of Turk's Island. Just behind the single line of 
 houses which fringe the curving shore are the salt ponds, 
 where sea-water is let in to evaporate and deposit the crys- 
 tallized salt which has made the name of this barren little 
 Bahama isle known to the entire world. Great mounds of 
 salt, white and glistening as snow, were piled along their 
 margins ; and having tasted a few grains, Atherton de- 
 clared their duty accomplished. 
 
 " And now," he said, hearing the echo of voices, "I 
 fear that the party from the ship who came ashore just be- 
 fore us, having taken in all the rest of the island, are turn- 
 ing their steps and their cameras towards the salt ponds. 
 Lest we should point a moral against sightseeing by ap- 
 pearing in their photographs, let us at once retreat." 
 
 He moved as he spoke into a lane which led back in the 
 direction they had come ; and, the village being more re- 
 markable for length than depth, they were a moment later 
 again facing the sea. 
 
 " Are we now to indulge in idling?" asked De Marsil- 
 lac. " But Turk's Island appears deficient in places suit-
 
 108 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 able for that amusement. Returning to the ship seems the 
 only alternative to walking indefinitely over glaring sand 
 in the hot sunshine." 
 
 " I don't think we shall need to walk very far in this 
 direction," said Atherton, turning to the left, " before we 
 have the shore and ocean to ourselves. Then we will find 
 a bit of shade, where we can rest and talk," 
 
 Beyond the village limits ) which were indeed soon 
 reached, they found a long stretch of beach, upon which 
 the surf curled creamily and the sun beat hotly, so they 
 were glad to seek the first shade which offered that of a 
 large tree, with spreading roots and foliage, which grew by 
 the wayside. Throwing themselves down here, they bared 
 their heads to the fresh breeze sweeping in from the flash- 
 ing plain of waters stretching to the verge of the horizon, 
 and were silent for several minutes, drinking in the wide 
 beauty of the scene. 
 
 " Nothing that has been said of the charm of the sea is 
 exaggerated," murmured the boy at length, with a soft, 
 deep sigh. " I think I should like to live on an island, in 
 order to be surrounded by it on all sides." 
 
 ' ' You might take your choice among a thousand or so 
 of these Bahama cays," said Atherton. " Or it might be 
 better to go down into the Caribbean Sea, among the Vir- 
 gins. Or, better yet, the isle of Tortuga, that old home of 
 the buccaneers from whence they descended upon what 
 is now Hayti, and upon Jamaica is, I believe, again unin- 
 habited and open to settlement." 
 
 " I should not care to make a home in a place so asso- 
 ciated with pirates and their deeds of blood," said De Mar- 
 sillac. " Don't think that I am descended from any of 
 those freebooters. Our family records are quite clear of 
 such stain. After the eastern end of Santo Domingo had
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 109 
 
 been declared a French colony, our ancestor, Raoul de Mar- 
 sillac, a ' cadet ' of a noble Breton family, came over in 
 some official capacity, purchased large estates and remained 
 in the island. It was his great-grandson who was killed at 
 the time of the insurrection." 
 
 " Which removes you six or is it seven? generations 
 from the Breton cadet, ' ' observed Atherton. ' ' Yet I 
 fancy he looked something like you ; for you are singu- 
 larly like the French type of a century and a half ago, as 
 one sees it in the portraits of that time. Powder your 
 hair, dress you in the fashion of that period, put a sword 
 at your side, and you might be the original Raoul de Mar- 
 sillac going beyond seas to seek his fortune. And I think 
 that you would like to be going to reconquer those rich 
 lands which your forefathers made the wonder of the world 
 for their productiveness." 
 
 11 You are right," was the reply. " It seems a shameful 
 thing that this island, so marvellous in its beauty and fer- 
 tility, be lost to civilization. I should of all things like to 
 reconquer and reclaim it. But since that cannot be, 1 am 
 determined at least to recover that small part of all my 
 people lost there of which I know." 
 
 " You have infected me with your hope that you may be 
 able to do so," said Atherton. " I have been giving the 
 matter much consideration since we talked of it yesterday ; 
 and the more I think of it, the more probable it appears to 
 me that such a deposit may have remained undisturbed 
 during the century which has elapsed since it was buried. 
 Do you know exactly where the estate of your ancestor is 
 situated ?" 
 
 " Yes, exactly. It is on the Plaine du Nord a famous 
 plain of the northern province, where the insurrection be- 
 gan four leagues from Cape Frangais, now Cape Haytien. "
 
 110 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Good ! Have you by chance a map with you ?" 
 
 De Marsillac replied by producing from the inner pocket 
 of his coat a folded piece of thin paper, which proved to be 
 a map of Santo Domingo. Spreading it out between them, 
 the two bent their heads over it ; and Atherton, having 
 located the Plaine du Nord, said : 
 
 " A plan has occurred to me which I judge from this map 
 to be entirely feasible. Here at the head of the Plaine du 
 Nord is, you perceive, Sans Souci, the palace of the black 
 king and tyrant Christophe ; and beyond that again, higher 
 in the mountains, is the citadel which he built, and which 
 all who have seen it describe as the most wonderful thing 
 of its kind, not only in the West Indies, but in the world. 
 As intelligent travellers, we must see this citadel ; and 
 since the estate of your family lies immediately on our 
 route, what is easier than that we should pause on the way 
 and make our search without any one being the wiser ?" 
 
 " We!" repeated the other, lifting startled eyes from 
 the map to the face of his companion. " But you are not 
 going to Hayti ?" 
 
 " Am 1 not ? There you are mistaken. Nothing so im- 
 portant calls me to Santo Domingo that I should pass a 
 country so unique without examining its political and social 
 conditions. And, then, there is the citadel of Christophe, 
 of which I have just spoken. One should on no account 
 leave that unseen. ' ' 
 
 The boy sat up, pushing back with a quick gesture the 
 clustering locks from his forehead, so that they formed a 
 tumbled, curling mass around his face, to which the sun 
 and the sea had given a Murillo-like color that added to its 
 picturesqueness. 
 
 "It is impossible !*' the young voice said hurriedly. 
 " You are only thinking of doing this on my account and
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. Ill 
 
 I cannot allow it. Mr. Atherton, you must not think of 
 such a thing !" 
 
 " And when, Monsieur de Marsillac, did you recover 
 seignioral rights in the island of Hayti ?" asked Atherton 
 good-humoredly. " I really do not think you have the 
 power to forbid my landing at the Cape ; and for the rest, 
 I was foolish enough to imagine that you would be rather 
 glad of my assistance in your undertaking." 
 
 " And so I would," the other replied eagerly, " if if 
 things were different. But as it is, what you propose is 
 impossible. It cannot be thought of." 
 
 "But why not?" asked Atherton, surprised by this 
 vehemence, and perhaps a little disappointed as well ; for 
 he had anticipated a very different response to the an- 
 nouncement of his intention. 
 
 The boy looked at him for a moment without reply, and 
 in that moment many things rushed through his mind. 
 He suddenly colored, and the clear hazel eyes fell as if in 
 shame. 
 
 " I am afraid you think me very ungrateful for your 
 kindness," he said, in a low voice. " But it is not so. I 
 feel it deeply. Only I also feel that it would be very selfish 
 to accept such a sacrifice of time and comfort as would be 
 involved in your breaking off your voyage, and running the 
 risk of many inconveniences if not dangers, in order to serve 
 the interest of a stranger. It is very kind it is more than 
 kind of you to think of it. But, all the same, you must 
 not do it." 
 
 " All the same I intend to do it," Atherton replied. 
 " If you did not wish me to take a part in your adventure, 
 you should never have told me anything about it. Some- 
 where within me there is yet the spirit of a boy, and what 
 boy would not be fascinated by the prospect of a search
 
 112 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 for hidden treasure? although I believe you don't like 
 your ancestor's hidden wealth to be called by that name." 
 
 " Only because it makes my search seem wild and absurd, 
 like a dime romance. You know what you thought when 
 I told you of it first." 
 
 ' ' Ah ! but since then I am quite converted to your views 
 so much so that I mean to have a share in finding this 
 treasure. You see, as I have told you, I arn a man very 
 much in want of an interest a want which I do not feel 
 that a sugar estate in Santo Domingo is at all likely to fill. 
 In all seriousness, my boy, I have determined to see you 
 through this affair, which you are too young ever to have 
 undertaken alone ; and which will require all our united 
 fund of wisdom, cunning, and contrivance to carry to suc- 
 cess. So let us say no more about it." 
 
 " I must say how grateful I am how much I feel your 
 kindness 
 
 " It is really unnecessary, since it is I who am obliged to 
 you for furnishing me with an adventure such as I could 
 never have hoped for ; and incidentally for an excuse to^ 
 visit a country which must be interesting, if only from its 
 unlikeness to all others, and the novel conditions on which 
 it rests. Now, there are many practical details to be ar- 
 ranged when we reach the Cape, but meanwhile the chief 
 point is settled : we undertake this search together ; and 
 if the first Henri de Marsillac's treasure remains undis- 
 turbed where he buried it, the second Henri de Marsillac 
 shall obtain it ; and here is my hand upon that. ' ' 
 
 Half-laughing, he held out his hand as he spoke, and the 
 Henri de Marsillac to whom he pledged his assistance could 
 not fail to place his own within it. As it chanced, their 
 hands had never met before, nor had Atherton noticed that 
 of the boy farther than to observe that it was very slender
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 113 
 
 and delicate. But as it lay now in his grasp he became 
 conscious of the fact that it was even more slender than he 
 had imagined ; and, although firm and vigorous, clothed 
 in a skin fine as satin. 
 
 " By Jove !" he said involuntarily, looking down at it. 
 " What a hand small and soft as a woman's ! You can 
 never have played ball very much, or rowed, or " 
 
 " No ; I never cared for athletic sports," said the other, 
 coloring, as he quickly drew back his hand. " There are 
 other things that seem to me better worth a man's doing ; 
 as horsemanship, fencing " 
 
 " So Raoul de Marsillac would have said. You are, I 
 see, a survival of another race in more than appearance. 
 But I fear, Sieur de Marsillac, that it will require other 
 hands than yours to dig for your inheritance." 
 
 The Sieur de Marsillac glanced rather ruefully a't his 
 hands. 
 
 " I am afraid they are not good for much in that way," 
 he said. " But we must get those whose business it is to 
 dig ; and if you give me a pistol or a sword, I will show 
 you that I can at least defend my inheritance." 
 
 " You would have surely had to defend it, and the end 
 of the matter would probably have been that the spot out 
 of which the inheritance was taken would have served as 
 the grave of the inheritor, had you proceeded to the search 
 with only such hands as the country could have furnished. 
 My dear boy, what a good thing it was if you will allow 
 me to say so that we sailed on the same ship !" 
 
 The boy looked up with a light of almost passionate grati- 
 tude on his face. 
 
 "It is for me to say that," he exclaimed ; " and I do 
 c ay it with all my heart. It was such great good fortune 
 for me that I wish I could send a message across these
 
 114 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 leagues of ocean to tell those who are suffering anxiety on 
 my account what a helper I have found." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A MOKNING of wide, tropical splendor fresh, delicious, 
 filled with the very breath of Eden ; the sleeping ocean a 
 flashing expanse of blue and silver ; the sky a great vault 
 of lucent turquoise, and a pale, misty, magical coast ; a 
 vision of azure mountains, melting and blending in the 
 most exquisite lines, while about their lordly heads were 
 gathered cloud-wreaths of softest beauty and shining radi- 
 ance this was the picture to be seen from the deck of the 
 New York as she steamed towards the famous bay of Cape 
 Haytien, once the Cape Fran9ais of the French, and earlier 
 yet the Guarico of the Spaniards. 
 
 Atherton, who was the first of the passengers on deck, 
 tapped on the closed window of De Marsillac's room. 
 
 " Come out !" he cried. " This is no time for slug- 
 gardly repose. We are in the most historic waters of the 
 New World, and in sight of its loveliest coast. Come out !" 
 
 " In a moment," an eager voice replied. And it was 
 hardly more than that when the slight figure emerged from 
 the cabin door and joined Atherton, where he stood watch- 
 ing the entrancing picture which every minute more clearly 
 revealed. 
 
 " I am endeavoring to fancy the feelings of Columbus, 
 when this coast first appeared to him," he said. " With 
 what a thrill he must have descried those dream-like 
 heights, which were to be in beauty as in richness the cul- 
 mination and crown of his discoveries. Had ever explorer
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 115 
 
 before such a reward ! Could even his wildest dreams have 
 fancied such a New World ! And yet it seemed an earnest 
 of the misfortunes which were to befall him on this Isle of 
 Hispaniola, that in the bay we are entering, on Christmas 
 Eve of 1492, the Santa Maria was wrecked." 
 
 " Was it here ?" the boy asked. " Strange that so 
 heavenly a spot could have been the scene of such a mis- 
 fortune !" 
 
 " Not strange at all to a sailor's eye. Ask our captain, 
 who has been lying off for several hours waiting for day- 
 light to enter the harbor, what lie thinks of it." 
 
 But nothing could be considered now not even the 
 memory of the great admiral viewing from his doomed 
 flag-ship the wondrous coasts opening before him save the 
 picturesque beauty unfolding as they drew nearer the land. 
 The magical, cloud-draped mountains receded into the 
 background ; while close at hand bold, verdure-clad heights 
 rose abruptly out of the flashing tides that broke in white 
 surf against the cliffs and detached masses of rock that 
 formed their base. Light, lovely mists were curling about 
 them, crowning their summits and lying in their green 
 gorges. All was fresh, radiant, enchanting, as if Nature 
 had just left the hand of God. Slowly steaming in, they 
 rounded that rocky headland, crowned with plumy palms, 
 which the Cape thrusts into the sea, and to which clings 
 the old fortification of Fort Picolet, its guns commanding 
 the narrow, winding channel ; and saw opening before them 
 the superb bay, with space on its broad bosom for a navy to 
 ride, and with such noble sweep of shore, such divine frame 
 of distant sapphire heights, as not even these " summer 
 isles of Eden" can elsewhere show. 
 
 " Magnificent !" exclaimed Atherton, as his glance took 
 in the wide, land-locked expanse. " No wonder the buc-
 
 116 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 caneers seized such a harbor. And yonder is the town they 
 founded the historic ' Cape. ' ' 
 
 Yes, there it lay the old town which later became the 
 Paris of the West Indies, and later yet the scene of the 
 most horrible atrocities of the negro revolt. Viewed across 
 the emerald waters of the harbor, its mass of gayly tinted 
 buildings presented a strikingly picturesque appearance, as 
 they occupy a narrow plain which lies between the shore 
 and two noble mountains which rise abruptly in wooded 
 steeps behind. 
 
 De Marsillac watched with fascinated gaze the gradual 
 revealing of this spot as they drew nearer. His thoughts 
 were with the past, with those of his own blood who had 
 lived here their gay, luxurious, careless lives, lapped in 
 ease and pleasure until the storm in which they perished 
 burst upon them. He thought of his great-great-grand- 
 father dying there, after that wild midnight ride for his 
 life ; and of the wife he left, with her infant children tak- 
 ing refuge on a foreign vessel, and sailing away, broken- 
 hearted and penniless, out of this beautiful bay a paradise 
 transformed into a hell. He was still silent when, the ship 
 having dropped her anchor in front of the town, there 
 came borne across the water the sweetest, clearest, most 
 musical chime of church-bells that ever delighted the ear. 
 As the silvery sound reached them, he looked up with a 
 quick glance towards his companion. 
 
 " What an exquisite welcome !" he said. " Does it not 
 seem a good omen that that is the first sound to greet me 
 from the island ?" 
 
 " We will hope so," Atherton answered. " Certainly 
 the appearance of things is calculated to raise one's spirits. 
 Whatever the town may prove on nearer view, it is delight- 
 fully picturesque seen from here ; while the natural setting
 
 THE MAST OF THE FAMILY. 117 
 
 of the bay is the most beautiful I have ever beheld. Some- 
 where in our view along these shores is the place where, 
 out of the material of the wrecked caravel, Columbus erect- 
 ed the fort of Navidad the first European settlement in 
 the New World, though one with a most tragic fate." 
 
 " Everything about this island seems to lead to tragedy/' 
 said the boy. " There is a blood-stain everywhere and 
 yet how divinely beautiful it is !" 
 
 "Where is the site of the fort of Navidad ?" repeated 
 the purser, who came up at the moment, and to whom 
 Atherton put the question. " Over yonder, I believe, near 
 the village of Petite Anse. And there" he pointed to the 
 westward side of the bay, where, dim, misty, inexpressibly 
 fair in their azure robes, rose the mighty forms of the 
 mountains that divide Hayti from Santo Domingo 
 " stands the great citadel of Christophe. It is on one of 
 those highest mountains. With a good glass the walls 
 can be clearly perceived from here. ' ' 
 
 " I must see that citadel," observed Atherton. " From 
 the descriptions given, it is well worth a visit." 
 
 " If you are going on with us, you can't manage it at 
 present," the purser said. " We sail to-morrow morning." 
 
 " I have decided to stop here," was the reply. " When 
 does your next steamer come along ?" 
 
 " Probably in about two weeks. But you'll not have a 
 very lively tino spending two weeks at the Cape with noth- 
 ing to do." 
 
 " ' Nothing to do ' is a condition I seldom suffer from," 
 answered Atherton. "I shall have much to do; for in 
 that time I intend to see, if not all, at least a good part of 
 Hayti. I shall go ashore after breakfast to look up quar- 
 ters and there is the breakfast bell." 
 
 " What is this I hear, Mr. Atherton ?" asked the cap-
 
 118 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 tain, as they took their seats at table. " Are you thinking 
 of leaving us here ?" 
 
 " I have decided upon doing so," replied Atherton. " I 
 want to see something of Hayti, and I am afraid that if I 
 don't take the present opportunity I may not have another. 
 I may leave Santo Domingo by another route, or interest 
 may be lacking, or or any one of several things. More- 
 over, I shall have my young friend Mr. de Marsillac as a 
 companion at the present time, which would not be the 
 case later. ' ' 
 
 The captain glanced a little curiously at the " young 
 friend" indicated. Like others, he had been perhaps 
 slightly repelled by the remarkable reticence of this particu- 
 lar passenger for the Cape. The business of every one else 
 on board whether it were logwood, sugar, tropical fruits 
 or railroads was well known; but this boy had kept his 
 own counsel so resolutely that no one knew what object or 
 interest was taking him to the island. Secretiveness, which 
 is not a very agreeable trait in any one, sits with a peculiar- 
 ly ill grace on the young ; and the frank sailor was not to 
 blame if he felt otherwise than attracted towards this ex- 
 ceedingly secretive youth. 
 
 " I hope you'll be repaid," he said ; " but I very much 
 fear that you'll find accommodations so bad that you'll wish 
 yourself back on the New York before we have been gone 
 very long." 
 
 " Mr. Schlagenbach," said Atherton, bowing to a friend- 
 ly German across the table, " has promised to see if he can- 
 not get me quarters with some friends of his. In that case 
 I can make the Cape my headquarters, and carry a camp- 
 ing equipment with me when I take excursions into the 
 country." 
 
 "That will be best," several voices said approvingly;
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 119 
 
 and then a shower of advice descended upon Atherton 
 from the surrounding travellers, most of whom knew the 
 different ports of Hayti well. 
 
 "For my sins," said one, "as well as for logwood, I 
 must stop here and go to Port de Paix in one of these small 
 sailing vessels that they call in Santo Domingo a goleta. I 
 only wish I had your chance of continuing on the New 
 York. Ilayti wouldn't tempt me much." 
 
 " It will not tempt Mr. Atherton a second time," said 
 another, with a laugh. " But it's worth while to see it 
 once, since there's nothing in the world like it." 
 
 It was not until breakfast was over that De Marsillac, 
 drawing Atherton aside, asked if his intention to land at 
 the Cape could not even yet be changed. " I thought of 
 the matter all night," he added wistfully ; " and it 
 seems too great a sacrifice on your part for me to al- 
 low " 
 
 " You said something of that kind yesterday," interposed 
 Atherton with good-humored impatience ; "and I believe 
 I told you I had no intention of asking your permission to 
 land on the soil of the Republic of Hayti. Consider that I 
 have made the same statement again, and that the discus- 
 sion is at an end. Can my man do anything for you ? I 
 have told him to put up my traps and be ready to land this 
 afternoon. Meanwhile we'll go ashore and see what my 
 German friend can do for us in the way of finding quar- 
 ters ; then come back for lunch, and afterwards bid Captain 
 Rockwell and his good ship adieu. Nonsense !" as the 
 other attempted to speak. " Let us have no more of this. 
 Allans!" 
 
 It was with a strange thrill that De Marsillac found him- 
 self treading the soil of Hayti. A row of about a mile over 
 the sparkling water of the bay had brought them to a
 
 120 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 dilapidated pier, where they landed, and whence a few steps 
 led them to the principal street of the city of ruins. 
 
 For such they found it to be. The appearance of the 
 town, viewed from the deck of the ship, had not at all pre- 
 pared them for its reality, nor had even the description 
 of those who knew it well. It is indeed impossible to con- 
 ceive anything like this city, on which fire, sword, and 
 earthquake the hand of man and that of God have alike 
 done their worst. In amazement the two newcomers 
 walked along the uneven, dusty streets, filled with refuse 
 of every possible description, where great piles of stones 
 lay as they had fallen in the great earthquake of 1842, and 
 regarded with constantly increasing wonder the immense 
 extent of the ruins which testified what the town had once 
 been, with its stately houses built entirely of stone, its well- 
 paved streets, its open squares decorated with fountains ; 
 its churches and public buildings worthy of the opulent, 
 luxurious city which existed here in the colonial days. 
 The walls of those once splendid dwellings stand now great 
 piles of shattered masonry, overgrown with the luxuriant 
 vegetation of the tropics. On every side the gaze fell upon 
 carved arches, pillars, and balconies, over which creepers 
 ran riot ; superb flights of stone steps ; courtyards and roof- 
 less salons, in which were growing full-sized palms, bananas, 
 and other trees ; while amid these wrecks of past splendor 
 the present inhabitants have erected low, insignificant 
 dwellings of wood many of them mere cabins and all the 
 scenes and conditions of an African village are to be beheld 
 in the midst of these melancholy ruins of an overthrown 
 civilization. 
 
 "It is something for which no description can prepare 
 one," said Atherton, as they threaded their way amid the 
 piles of debris. " These ruins attest a past magnificence
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 121 
 
 fur exceeding one's conception and in their midst, with- 
 out attempting even to lift a fallen stone, burrow a race of 
 savages !" 
 
 " You have never read the. accounts of St. Mery, who 
 visited the colony before the insurrection, and who par- 
 ticularly describes the magnificence of the Cape, else you 
 would not be surprised," said De Marsillac. " For my- 
 self, I have the strangest sensations as I walk these streets, 
 as if I were the ghost of one of the old dwellers here. I 
 have read, heard, dreamed so much of the colonial life for 
 the subject always possessed a peculiar fascination to me 
 that I seem to have made a part of it. I feel as if I had 
 seen all this before ; as if I had been one of those who 
 feasted and revelled within these walls ; as if I had once 
 passed up and down those steps" he pointed to a stately 
 flight of stone steps leading from the street to a great carved 
 doorway, behind which were roofless, partially fallen walls 
 and a wilderness of tropical growth " to and from a wait- 
 ing carriage, into which I was handed by a gentleman with 
 powdered hair and a sword at his side " 
 
 " You must, then, have been a woman in those days," 
 said Atherton, glancing at him with a smile. 
 
 He was surprised by the flame of color that mounted into 
 the young face, only a moment before so absorbed in im- 
 aginations of the past. 
 
 "What an absurd dreamer you must think me !" said 
 the boy, looking away. " But, dreams apart, I wish I 
 knew which one of these masses of ruins belonged to my 
 great-great-grandfather and was the house in which he 
 died." 
 
 " If you lived here in a former state of existence, you 
 ought to know. But, seriously, have you no clue do you 
 not know the name of the street on which it was situated ?"
 
 122 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 "It was, I think, in the Rue St. Louis ; but how can 
 one tell whether the streets still bear their old names ? 
 The people look so forbidding that I feel a hesitation in ad- 
 dressing any of them." 
 
 " I will inquire," said Atherton ; and, pausing, he ad- 
 dressed a barefooted policeman in fluent French. The 
 man stared, shrugged his shoulders, muttered something 
 unintelligible, and walked away. 
 
 " Probably he does not understand you," said De Mar- 
 sillac. " I believe the educated class alone speak French. 
 The others speak a patois called Creole, which must be a 
 good deal like the patois our Louisiana negroes speak. " 
 
 " You understand that, I suppose ?'' 
 
 " Oh, yes ! One catches it from the negroes in one's 
 childhood." 
 
 " It may enable you, then, to talk with these people, 
 which will be a distinct gain in enabling us to dispense with 
 an interpreter. But tell me now, if you were here alone, 
 what could you possibly do to effect your object ?" 
 
 De Marsillac gazed around at the heap of overgrown 
 ruins, the neglected streets, the throng of strange, black 
 faces filled with hereditary suspicion and dislike of the 
 white man, and his heart sank within him. What, indeed, 
 could he do ? How different from his Louisiana, and the 
 negroes who were there his faithful friends and assistants ! 
 What foolish daring, what presumption of ignorance, had 
 brought him here with so vague an idea of the difficulties 
 that would confront him ! He turned his gaze to Ather- 
 ton's face. 
 
 4t I fear that I could do nothing alone/' he said. " But 
 I still believe that God will give me success ; and I believe 
 it more than ever since He has sent you to help me. For 
 it seems to me almost a miracle men being so selfish as
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 123 
 
 they are that you should do this for me, of whom you 
 know so little." 
 
 " Men are, certainly, as a rule, very selfish," Atherton 
 replied ; " and I have no reason to suppose that I am in 
 any striking degree an exception to the rule. Yet I am re- 
 solved to do this ; although, as you justly remark, I know 
 little of you. But yonder, if I mistake not, comes my 
 good friend, Mr. Schlagenbach ; and I judge from his 
 beaming expression that he has succeeded in obtaining for 
 us the lodgings desired. If not, I think we had better 
 seek shelter in the ruins of your ancestral house than at- 
 tempt to find our comfort in such an inn as the Cape is 
 likely to furnish." 
 
 But Mr. Schlagenbach's news justified his beaming ex- 
 pression. The tall, friendly German was overflowing with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " I am happy to say that my friend will have pleasure in 
 receiving you," he said to Atherton when they met. " And 
 you are very fortunate, because he has a comfortable house 
 on the outskirts of the town ; and, since his wife is just 
 now in Germany, there is no one but himself to occupy it. 
 Therefore he can put several rooms at your disposal." 
 
 "1 am delighted to hear it," said Atherton; "and 
 more obliged to you than I can express. Will you add to 
 your kindness by introducing us to your friend, so that we 
 can make our arrangements ?" 
 
 " Oh, with great pleasure ! We will go at once to his 
 counting-house. It is on this street, a little farther along. " 
 
 The street they were now following, which ran parallel 
 with the shore and was more closely built than any other, 
 was chiefly lined with business houses, structures of wood 
 gayly painted, in the second stories of which the families 
 of the merchants lived, as was evident from the glimpses
 
 124 THE MAX OP THE FAMILY. 
 
 of furnished rooms obtained through the open windows, 
 and the household scenes on the balconies. These shops 
 were well filled with goods, and trade seemed brisk. But 
 the condition of this principal thoroughfare was hardly bet- 
 ter than any of the others, while it was filled with a motley 
 throng of black people ; very few colored (that is, mulatto) 
 faces being seen, and fewer still white, with the exception 
 of a group or two from the New York. Negresses passed 
 along, trailing freshly starched dresses over the filthy side- 
 walks, and wearing brightly striped handkerchiefs tied in 
 picturesque turban fashion around their heads. Others, in 
 short blue cotton gowns and bare black legs and feet, car- 
 ried bundles of one kind or another on their heads, hold- 
 ing themselves surprisingly erect, and walking with an 
 inimitable ease and savage grace. The men were less re- 
 markable, and seemed to De Marsillac much like any aver- 
 age throng to be found on a Southern plantation, or the 
 docks and negro quarters of a Southern city. Here and 
 there faces of intelligence, indicating education, were to be 
 seen ; but the majority were of a very low intellectual and 
 strongly animal type, with now and again a countenance of 
 revolting characteristics. 
 
 " If you want to fancy yourself on the Congo, you ought 
 to go and take a glimpse of the market yonder," said Mr. 
 Schlagenbach, as he nodded in the direction of a cross- 
 street. " It is on the next square. And it is not mere re- 
 port but verified fact that human flesh has been offered for 
 sale there." 
 
 "Impossible!" cried Atherton, with an expression of 
 disgust and incredulity. 
 
 " Ah ! you say ' impossible ' because you know not 
 Havti," replied the other. " Get those who live here to tell 
 you what they know. But here we are at my friend 's place. "
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 125 
 
 He turned as he spoke into a large warehouse filled with 
 merchandise of various descriptions, the odor of green 
 coffee strongly predominating ; and made his way to where 
 a short, rotund German of middle age dressed, like most 
 men in the tropics, in white clothing was seated at a desk. 
 He stepped from his high stool as the trio approached ; 
 and Mr. Schlagenbach, benignly smiling, introduced his 
 companions to Mr. Hoffman. 
 
 " We are very glad to hear," said Atherton, after shaking 
 hands, " that, owing to Mr. Schlagenbach 's kind recom- 
 mendation, you will afford us quarters during the short 
 stay which we expect to make at the Cape." 
 
 "It is something which we who live here expect to do 
 for our friends," the German replied. He was a stolid 
 man, with none of Schlagenbach 's beaming friendliness, 
 but a certain air which seemed to say that what he prom- 
 ised he would perform. "If we did not," he added, 
 ' ' they would fare very badly. Ever been in Hayti before, 
 Mr. Atherton ?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " And you don't come on business ?" 
 
 " Merely to see the country." 
 
 " Ah ! Then I fancy you will not require any quarters 
 longer than a good opportunity offers for getting away. 
 Meanwhile, since my family are absent, I can put my house 
 at your disposition. Have you come ashore at present pre- 
 pared to remain ?" 
 
 " No ; we only came ashore to look at things and make 
 the arrangement now happily concluded. We will return 
 to the ship, and coins ashore with our luggage this after- 
 noon." 
 
 " If you will name an hour, I will meet you at the wharf 
 with my carriage."
 
 126 THE MAK OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " You are exceedingly kind. Under those circumstances 
 it would ba better for you to name the hour yourself." 
 
 " Shall we say five o'clock, then ? That will give you 
 time to settle comfortably before dinner. By the bye, how 
 many rooms do you require ?" 
 
 " Three. I have with me an English servant." 
 
 " Very well. They will be prepared oh, no more 
 thanks ! We expect, as I have said, to do this kind of 
 thing here on the island, and I am glad to have the pleas- 
 ure of meeting you. I need hardly say that your father's 
 name is well known to me." 
 
 " And therein," said De Marsillac, in a low voice, as 
 they left the warehouse, " lies the secret of Mr. Hoffman's 
 obliging readiness to take us under his roof. You asked 
 me a little while ago what I should do without you, Mr. 
 Atherton. I begin to perceive clearly that I should do 
 very badly indeed." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AT five o'clock in the afternoon, their luggage having 
 already been sent ashore under care of Atherton 's capable 
 English servant, the two friends shook hands with the 
 genial captain and such of the passengers as had formed 
 their acquaintance, went down the ladder at the ship's side 
 to the boat awaiting them, sprang lightly into it as it tossed 
 up and down on the green waves, and were rowed across 
 the bay to the city lying under the shadow of its superb 
 heights, where their adventure was to be carried out to the 
 final issue of success or failure. 
 
 According to his promise, Mr. Hoffman met them at the
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 127 
 
 wharf with a light carriage, such as those foreigners who 
 do business in the Cape but live outside generally use. 
 
 " I have sent your man on with your things," he said to 
 Atherton, who glanced around. " Jump in, both of you, 
 and we'll be at my place in fifteen minutes." 
 
 Complying with this request, they rattled away in an op- 
 posite direction from that which they had taken in the 
 morning, crossed a stone bridge over a dry watercourse, 
 and, driving along a road which followed the shore, with 
 masses of overgrown ruins on its landward side, pres- 
 ently descried before them a red roof showing with pic- 
 turesque effect above a great mass of greenery, which Mr. 
 Hoffman pointed out as his residence. 
 
 It proved to be a very attractive place. The large house, 
 although single-storied and rather slightly built of wood, 
 was an ideal dwelling for tropical purposes, with wide doors 
 opening in every direction to take advantage of every sea 
 or land breeze, and broad verandas completely encircling 
 it, as it stood in the midst of a garden filled with luxuriant 
 trees, shrubs, and flowers. The rooms in readiness for the 
 newcomers were all that could be desired in cleanliness and 
 neatness ; and when they sat down to dinner there was 
 something very suggestive of home to the young Louisianian 
 in the black faces of the servants who waited upon them. 
 Mr. Hoffman apologized for shortcomings on the ground 
 of his wife's absence, but to the two who had feared faring 
 so differently there seemed no need for apology at all. 
 
 Dinner over, the host proposed that they should adjourn 
 to Ihe veranda to smoke ; and while he and Atherton light- 
 ed their cigars, their companion walked away from them to 
 another side of the building, where he paused to contem- 
 plate the picture spread before him, with the strangest pos- 
 sible mingling of thoughts and feelings.
 
 128 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 It was a picture to rouse many thoughts, apart from its 
 personal significance to himself. The air was perfectly 
 still, hardly the whisper of a breeze stirred the heavy tropi- 
 cal foliage drooping around the veranda ; and the waters of 
 the wide bay seemed sleeping like an inland lake, while the 
 masts and spars of the ships lying at anchor upon it showed 
 like marine etchings in the delicate mingling of starshine 
 and moonshine, an exquisite radiance in which the hushed 
 waters, the far outlines of shore and mountains, the town 
 gleaming with lights, and the dark, majestic heights above 
 it, were all touched with a mysterious beauty and charm. 
 What memories of the past rushed upon the mind of the 
 gazer as he stood looking out over the tranquil scene ! 
 memories of the great Genoese, for whom no doubt these 
 waters slept as softly and plashed as caressingly, as if they 
 had not betrayed him to shipwreck, and whose eyes first 
 gazed upon the enchanting beauty of these shores ; memo- 
 ries of the doomed defenders of Navidad, with the unwrit- 
 ten tragedy of their fate ; memories of the buccaneers sail- 
 ing into this noble harbor with their booty from plundered 
 Spanish galleons, and founding, in piracy and bloodshed, 
 the town which was to be a hundred times washed in blood ; 
 memories of colonial wealth and splendor, and of the con- 
 stantly arriving ships laden with their dark freight of slaves 
 from Africa the black cloud which was to whelm in ruin 
 the prosperity it helped for a time to build ; memories of 
 the terrible scenes of the insurrection, the continuation be- 
 yond seas of the not less terrible scenes of the French Revo- 
 lution, and of the wave of savagery which had submerged 
 forever this fairest and most fertile spot of all God's earth ! 
 
 " That seems a nice boy, Mr. Atherton," Mr. Hoffman 
 had meanwhile remarked, as the slim young figure passed 
 out of sight around a corner of the building.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 129 
 
 " He is a very nice boy," Atherton agreed ; " a descend- 
 ant, by the bye, of one of the old proprietors of the colonial 
 days. His people owned large estates near here, and he is 
 anxious to visit them in fact, that is his chief reason for 
 coming ashore at this place. I suppose there will be no 
 difficulty in paying such a visit ?" 
 
 " That depends upon how far he wishes to go," the other 
 replied. " There are parts of the country that are neither 
 agreeable nor safe for foreigners ; but if the estates are in 
 the immediate neighborhood of the Cape, he might venture 
 to visit them, although I should not advise him to mention 
 the fact of his being the descendant of their former owner. 
 The hatred and suspicion of the negroes towards white men 
 are inextinguishable, and would naturally be greater towards 
 the representative of one of their old masters." 
 
 " I should have fancied that a century of independence 
 might have eradicated such feelings," Atherton observed. 
 
 " A century of independence has eradicated nothing and 
 improved nothing in the character of this people," was the 
 reply. " In point of fact, the whole truth has never been 
 told to the world in regard to Hayti, else civilized nations 
 would grow ashamed of protecting in a farce of self-govern- 
 ment a race of savages as steeped in barbarism as their fel- 
 low-countrymen on the west coast of Africa." 
 
 " Everything which I have heard and read has led me to 
 the same conclusion," said Atherton ; " but, from certain 
 dark hints which are let fall by those who know the coun- 
 try, I fancy the worst is not known outside. For instance, 
 what do all these stories about cannibalism amount to ? I 
 confess that I have heard them with incredulity." 
 
 " Very likely, "said the German dryly. He smoked for 
 a moment in silence. " Most strangers hear them with in- 
 credulity," he added ; " but there is nothing more certain
 
 130 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 than that they are true, and that the constant effort of the 
 government is to ignore and hide this crime rather than ex- 
 pose and suppress it." 
 
 " But do you, a resident of the country for years, of your 
 own knowledge declare this thing ?" Atherton persisted. 
 
 " Of my own knowledge !" repeated the other with em- 
 phasis. " I have not seen the cannibals at their feasts if 
 that is what you mean but, short of that, I know it as 
 thoroughly as I can know anything, as thoroughly as every 
 one else on the island knows it. Why, it is a fact that the 
 police are bound to examine the basket of every peasant 
 who comes in to market, to prevent the smuggling in for 
 sale of human flesh, and that time and again it has been 
 seized. Don't you know that the mysterious disappear- 
 ance of children, carried off to be sacrificed at their Vaudoux 
 rites, keeps every mother on the island in terror ? Look 
 yonder !" he pointed to the immense mountain over- 
 shadowing them, where, midway up its dark side, a light 
 gleamed like a star. " That light indicates the dwelling 
 of a Vaudoux papaloi, or priest. There, it is well known, 
 the negroes go to celebrate their infernal mysteries, of 
 which the worship of the serpent is chief ; but they would 
 tell you that they do not offer human sacrifice. Yet it is 
 only a few years since two white men one an American, 
 the other a Dominican witnessed the murder of human 
 victims in that very spot." 
 
 " There /" said Atherton, gazing in horror-struck fasci- 
 nation at the light which seemed to shine with so baleful 
 a glow out of the deep obscurity surrounding it. " In 
 sight of a seaport where contact with the outer world 
 might be supposed to produce some glimmer of civilization 
 what horrible audacity !" 
 
 " No particular audacity was required," replied his host
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 131 
 
 quietly. " But these facts will give you some idea of how 
 shallow the civilization of Hayti is, and will indicate what 
 I meant when I said that I would not advise your young 
 friend to venture too far into the country in the attempt to 
 visit the former estates of his family. If he disappeared 
 well, do you know what was said in open court to the jury 
 by the advocate of a negro who had murdered a Frenchman 
 in Port au Prince ! ' Aprh tout, ce n'est qu'un Wane de 
 moins.' " 
 
 "He will not disappear," said Atherton grimly. "I 
 think I can promise so much. But in going into the coun- 
 try for a few days I shall want a guide. Do you know any 
 one trustworthy whom you could recommend ?" 
 
 Mr. Hoffman smoked meditatively for a moment before 
 he replied : 
 
 " I will speak to one of my servants to-morrow, who may 
 be able to obtain for you what you want. He is an Ameri- 
 can negro, with a very low opinion of the Haytians, and he 
 may find some Jamaica or Turk's Island negro, of whom 
 there are a few here, for your service. How soon do you 
 want to start on your expedition ?" 
 
 " As soon as we can get ready." 
 
 " And is your destination only the old estate of which 
 you have spoken ?" 
 
 " By no means. We wish to see as much of the country 
 as possible taking in, of course, the famous palace and 
 citadel of Christophe. There is no difficulty in visiting 
 those places ?" 
 
 " None at all in visiting the palace, but you will need a 
 permit from the general commanding this department to 
 enable you to enter the citadel. " 
 
 " I thought it was in ruins ?" 
 
 " So it is partially, at least. But, all the same, no for-
 
 132 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 eigner is allowed to enter it without a permit. If you wish 
 to go there, and it is decidedly worth your while to do so, 
 we will apply for a permit to-morrow." 
 
 " By all means, if necessary. How many days are re- 
 quired for the excursion ?" 
 
 " Not more than two. That is the time usually occupied 
 in going and returning, and seeing the palace and fort.'* 
 
 " I shall take more time. There is no need for haste, 
 and we will visit my friend's family estate en route" 
 
 " Is it situated near here ?" 
 
 ' " It is in the Plaine du Nord. That is near here, is it 
 not ?" 
 
 " Very near. Passing around that great mountain yon- 
 der, you soon enter upon it. It is a magnificant plain, 
 covered with the ruins of old estates ; and, if it were in 
 the hands of any other people than these, would be again 
 the wonder of the world for its fertility. Does Mr. de Mar- 
 sillac know the exact situation of his family place ?" 
 
 " Exactly enough for all practical purposes. I think we 
 shall be able to locate it without difficulty. I shall also 
 take a camera with me ; for I wish to obtain a number of 
 photographs, and I have an idea of doing a little prospect- 
 ing in the hills. This country should abound in minerals ; 
 and yet, I believe, there has never been any attempt to pros- 
 pect it." 
 
 " It has never been in a condition at least, for a cen- 
 tury past to make prospecting possible, or its results (if 
 any were found) very valuable," said Mr. Hoffman dryly. 
 " But I don't think that even the Spaniards ever looked 
 here for gold. The mines they worked were all in the 
 Dominican mountains." 
 
 " Gold is not the only valuable mineral," said Atherton. 
 ' But what I chiefly wish to gratify is a scientific curiosity
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 133 
 
 by finding what the hills contain. Therefore I shall take 
 with me a geological equipment hammer, pick, and 
 shovel. I presume there will be no objection to my explor- 
 ing a little in this manner ?' ' 
 
 " There is no telling to what these people will object," 
 was the discouraging reply. " I think that if I were going 
 to attempt anything of the kind, I should carefully avoid 
 opposition, by prospecting only in a quiet place and to a 
 limited extent." 
 
 " I think I can promise that my prospecting will be to a 
 very limited extent, and in a very quiet place," said Ather- 
 ton, smiling. " I can obtain the necessary tools here, I 
 suppose ?" 
 
 ' ' I will obtain them for you. It will excite no attention 
 for me to do so, but a stranger is always an object of atten- 
 tion and suspicion. I must warn you, however, that you 
 will not find any accommodation in the country. You can 
 get a night's lodging at Milot the village of the palace of 
 Sans Souci but I doubt if it will be of a nature to tempt 
 you to remain there longer than one night." 
 
 " I shall not even ask for that. I intend taking with 
 me a camping outfit. In expectation of such excursions 
 for I have come to the West Indies to spend some time-Hf[ 
 have a light tent and several hammocks. My servant is 
 also experienced in camping. He spent last summer with 
 me on a hunting tour in the Rocky Mountains. We will 
 take provisions with us, and ask no accommodation from 
 the people of the country." 
 
 " A very good plan," said Mr. Hoffman approvingly. 
 " Well, I will do what I can for you ; and I hope" with 
 a rather doubtful accent " that you may not get into any 
 difficulties. It is necessary to bear in mind that it is very 
 easy to get into difficulties in Hayti."
 
 134 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " I shall bear it in mind," answered Atherton, amused 
 at the evident solicitude of the speaker lest he himself 
 might be involved in the difficulties which he feared for 
 these rash strangers. 
 
 The more rash of the two strangers that one the ex- 
 tent of whose rashness was indeed only gauged by some 
 anxious hearts far away waa still gazing out over the 
 shadow-haunted bay and shores, when a little later Ather- 
 ton came up and laid a hand on his shoulder. 
 
 Now, as more than once before, he was struck by the 
 manner in which the boy shrank from anything like per- 
 sonal contact. He drew the shoulder abruptly away as he 
 turned, with a slight contraction of the brows, to see who 
 had approached him. 
 
 " Did I startle you ?" Atherton asked. " You must 
 have been very much absorbed in your thoughts." 
 
 " So I was," the other answered. " For the moment I 
 was at home, thinking of my people and of all that has 
 brought me here, upon what seems to you so wild a ven- 
 ture." 
 
 " It is beginning to lose its wild character as one comes 
 down to practical details," said Atherton, drawing forward 
 a large bamboo chair and settling himself comfortably. " I 
 have just been discussing these details with our host, and 
 we have pretty well arranged them. I came for you to talk 
 matters over a little further ; but just now he is engaged 
 with a visitor, so we'll lounge here and wait his leisure. 
 Meanwhile I'll light another cigar you don't smoke, sensi- 
 ble boy ! and you shall tell me something about your peo- 
 ple. I fancy that your sisters must be very attractive." 
 
 :< Why do you think so ?" asked the other, with surprise. 
 
 "Don't be too much flattered when I say because I
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 135 
 
 judge of them by yourself. It is impossible not to fancy 
 that the qualities which render you an uncommonly attrac- 
 tive boy must exist in an accentuated degree in them." 
 
 " And you are quite right in fancying so," was the quick 
 reply. " Any attractive qualities that I may possess cer- 
 tainly do exist in a very accentuated degree in my sisters 
 at least, in one of them. No one could be more attractive 
 than my sister Diane." 
 
 " Diane !" repeated Atherton. " What a charming 
 name Diane de Marsillac ! It suggests some court beauty 
 of old France." 
 
 " And that is what Diane looks like !" cried the boy. 
 " Everybody says so ; and, in fact, one can see for one's 
 self how much she is like the pictures of the famous beau- 
 ties of the time of Louis Quatorze and Louis Quinze. You 
 might think her one of them restored to life and there is 
 not one more beautiful than herself." 
 
 " You are more enthusiastic than brothers usually are 
 over the charms of a sister," observed Atherton, amused 
 and interested. " She must be very fascinating, this fair 
 Diane." 
 
 " She is that above all," was the serious answer. " She 
 fascinates every one not a special class, like some women, 
 but everybody. Young and old, rich and poor, black and 
 white, there is not any one who knows her and who does 
 not love Diane. And that," the speaker added, half un- 
 consciously and in a changed tone, " is her misfortune." 
 
 " Why ?" inquired Atherton, surprised and yet more 
 interested by the thrill of emotion which had suddenly 
 come ir;to the expressive voice. 
 
 " Because there is a love, if one can call it love, which 
 is more cruel than hate," was the unexpectedly passionate 
 reply, " a love more to be dreaded than death ; for it is
 
 136 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 more ruthless, more unsparing. This love it has been the 
 fate of my poor Diane to inspire ; and she will be sacrificed 
 to it unless I I alone can save her." 
 
 " Pray tell me what you mean," said Atherton, suddenly 
 sitting upright and speaking in a tone of such interest aa 
 demanded response. 
 
 And the voice, with its thrilling inflections of passion 
 and pathos, told him. Loneliness and the deep human need 
 of sympathy overpowered with the speaker all considera- 
 tions of prudence ; and so, here in distant Hayti, Atherton 
 heard the story of the home on the Bayou Teche, and of 
 all that had brought the descendant of Henri de Marsillac 
 to seek the wealth which the latter had striven to save. 
 
 Whatever was most sympathetic, most generous, and, it 
 may be added, most chivalrous in the nature of the listener 
 stirred at the recital as he listened ; and he said to himself 
 that the whim which had led him to break off his voyage 
 to accompany this lad on his adventure had been well fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 " I am very glad that you have told me this," he said 
 presently. " If I was anxious to help you before, I am 
 much more anxious now. "With such a motive I do not 
 wonder you have crossed the sea and are ready to encounter 
 any risks to seek what is yours and theirs. And we will 
 find it, never fear for that ! Your Diane has gained an- 
 other champion. Time, labor, money we will spend them 
 like water, but she shall have her ransom. I pledge myself 
 to that." 
 
 Even in the dim light he could see that De Marsillac 
 looked at him with glowing eyes, and that for the first 
 time, of his own motion, he extended his hand. 
 
 " If we succeed or if we fail," he said, in a tone of ex- 
 ceeding sweetness, " I can never thank you more than 1
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 137 
 
 thank you now for the aid without which, as I clearly per- 
 ceive, I could do nothing." 
 
 " But, as it is, we will together do every thing," answered 
 Atherton confidently. "And when we have succeeded 
 you shall reward me for whatever I have accomplished by 
 introducing me to this fair Diane, whose sworn knight I 
 hereby constitute myself/' 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THANKS to the efforts of Mr. Hoffman who 'showed 
 himself extremely anxious to fulfil the injunction to speed 
 the parting guest and thanks yet more to a lavish use of 
 that talisman which proves an " open sesame" in all coun- 
 tries, the third day after their arrival at the Cape found 
 the travellers equipped and ready to set forth upon their 
 journey. 
 
 It was a morning of such radiant freshness and brilliance 
 as only these enchanted tropical regions know. The warmth 
 of the sun was tempered by the breeze already blowing 
 from the limitless expanse of silver sea ; and the wide, 
 flashing bay, the distant sapphire heights, and the great, 
 green masses of the Mornes rising above the picturesque 
 town, were all bathed in an atmosphere of the most ex- 
 quisite beauty. 
 
 It was a scene upon which the eyes of the strangers had 
 not ceased to dwell with delight since their arrival ; but 
 to-day they were for the first time heedless of its loveliness 
 in the excitement attending their departure. Before the 
 veranda stood five horses two passably good, three very 
 sorry on one of the last of which several servants were
 
 138 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 packing the camping outfit : tent, hammocks, etc. Gil- 
 bert, Atherton's well-trained English servant, was direct- 
 ing and assisting ; while the guide a chocolate-colored 
 Jamaica negro with an intelligent face stood by, offering 
 now and then a word of advice. On the veranda Mr. Hoff- 
 man was also bestowing some last words of advice upon his 
 departing guests, who assured him of their intention to be 
 as prudent and cautious as possible. Presently Gilbert, ap- 
 proaching his master, announced that all was in readiness. 
 
 " You are sure nothing is forgotten ?" Atherton asked. 
 
 " Nothing, sir, I think." 
 
 " Then we are off ! A thousand thanks for all your 
 kindness, Mr. Hoffman ; and I trust we shall be able to re- 
 port on our return a successful expedition." 
 
 " I sincerely hope that you may," was the cordial reply. 
 " I'll expect you here, of course, on your return." 
 
 Hands were shaken ; Atherton and his companion mount- 
 ed ; Gilbert, with the guide leading the pack-horse, fol- 
 lowed ; and they rode out of the gates of the merchant's 
 pretty residence. 
 
 Their way lay directly through the town, so that they 
 had another comprehensive view of its squalor and filth ; 
 its immense masses of overgrown ruins, with their pictur- 
 esque aspect and unspeakably tragic suggestions ; its flimsy 
 houses, and its throng of black faces. Followed by curious 
 glances, they rode through the unevenly paved, crowded 
 streets, by the grass-grown, ruin-encircled place where 
 stands the church with its musical bells, and so reached the 
 northeastern gate of the city, where, passing a barefooted 
 sentry, with whom their guide exchanged a few words, they 
 found themselves in the open country, upon a broad, hard 
 road which led across saline flats and around the base of the 
 great mountain known as the AVestern Mornc.
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 139 
 
 " Here we are at last, fairly on our way to the place we 
 have come to seek," said Atherton when the town was left 
 behind them. " Of what are you thinking, Henri, that 
 you are so silent ?" 
 
 The boy whom he addressed started, and turned towards 
 him a pair of eyes shining with that excitement of the 
 mind which is like a strong stimulant in its effect upon the 
 body. 
 
 " There are so many things of which to think !" he re- 
 plied. " But just then I was thinking of my great-great- 
 grandfather riding for his life along this road, carrying his 
 death wound with him, on that awful night of the first 
 outbreak. I am the first of his blood to ride here since 
 then." 
 
 ' ' A second Henri de Marsillac retracing his steps, with 
 the gulf of a century between !" said Atherton. " It is 
 certainly a thought to stir many memories, especially when 
 one recollects why you are here. I fancy, by the bye, that 
 the first Henri rode that race with death as much to save 
 the secret which he carried as to warn the Cape which by 
 that time must have needed little warning and to see 
 once more his wife and children." 
 
 " Who can tell ?" the other answered. " There were 
 reasons enough, God knows ! But 1 hardly think he 
 thought of that after it was done. Events followed too 
 fast. He and bis faithful Jacques at once set out to save 
 themselves, and carry the news of the insurrection to the 
 Cape ; but they met a party of the insurgent slaves and 
 were forced to fight. They had firearms and fast horses, 
 which the others had not ; so, although poor Jacques was 
 killed, my great-great-grandfather escaped but with a 
 mortal wound. His horse was a splendid animal, and car- 
 ried him away from the fiends through whom he had fought
 
 140 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 his way. Can you not fancy horse and rider as they dashed 
 madly along this road the man staunching the blood from 
 his wound as best he could, and praying, no doubt, just to 
 keep his senses and his seat until he should reach the lights 
 of the Cape that shone ahead, while hell itself seemed behind 
 in the burning glare which lighted the Plaine du Nord 
 from the plantations where the slaves were making a carni- 
 val of murder ?" 
 
 " One would think you had been with him," said Ather- 
 ton, " you seem so well acquainted with every detail." 
 
 " Oh, that is not remarkable ! 1 have heard the story 
 so often, and pictured it to myself in connection with all I 
 read of that time. In fact, I fancied it so clearly that the 
 only strange thing now is to find myself here, where it hap- 
 pened. I can hardly believe that that is not a dream.'' 
 
 " We will prove it a most solid reality. And if we find 
 untouched what Henri de Marsillac buried on that night, I 
 hope his spirit may have the satisfaction of knowing it," 
 
 " I am glad you don't hope that it may be ' by to see, ' " 
 said the other, with a slight laugh. " Great as my regard 
 for and interest in him have always been, I confess I could 
 not hope that. But let us speak of practical things. Shall 
 we seek the estate to-day, or go to the palace and citadel 
 first ?" 
 
 ' ' My plan is to locate the estate to-day that is, find ex- 
 actly where it is and then go to Milot for the night. To- 
 morrow we will see the palace and citadel, and return ; and 
 to-morrow night we will spend in the home of your ances- 
 tors. How long we will remain there depends on circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " Yes," in a low voice. Then abruptly : " When do you 
 suppose we shall reach the Plaine du Nord ?" 
 
 "Very soon, I think," replied Atherton. "You see,
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 141 
 
 we are turning quite away from the shore and rising to 
 higher ground." 
 
 In fact, they had already entered upon that famous plain. 
 The barren saline flats were left behind, and on each side 
 spread an expanse of rich but almost wholly uncultivated 
 land. On the side of the road the ancient French high- 
 way, still, after the neglect of a century, in a state of good 
 preservation grew, tall and thick, trees which had origi- 
 nally been planted for hedges ; while here and there a plan- 
 tation patch was the only sign of cultivation, although 
 large tracts were covered with what seemed at first sight a 
 species of scrub timber, but which proved to be coffee-trees 
 left to grow wild. Soon also there appeared ruins of gate- 
 ways and houses, all built so durably of stone the gate- 
 posts and fafades of the dwellings handsomely carved 
 that they had, in a measure at least, resisted every agent of 
 destruction employed against them. In what remained of 
 these mansions no one dwelt ; but near the gates were fre- 
 quently seen the palm-thatched cabin of some negro de- 
 scendant of the slaves who once tilled these broad and fer- 
 tile lands, now again abandoned to Nature. 
 
 " I am afraid the search will be a little difficult," said 
 Atherton. " Who could have imagined that the country- 
 seats of the old proprietors would be so numerous ! What a 
 paradise this plain must have been before the insurrection !" 
 
 It required indeed no great stretch of imagination to pic- 
 ture its beauty and fertility when covered with superb 
 plantations and stately homes, its broad fields of cane and 
 sugar divided by citron hedges, and the whole crossed in 
 all directions by roads so admirably constructed that their 
 stone bridges, culverts, and ditches still remain after the 
 lapse of a century. 
 
 "A paradise indeed!" echoed the other, glancing over
 
 142 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 its wide expanse, bounded by glorious masses of azure 
 mountains, cloud-crested against the deeper azure of the 
 sky. " And now given up to utter ruin and desolation. 
 Eh bien /" turning quickly to the guide, "do you know 
 where is the village of Grande Riviere ?" 
 
 The man nodded assent. " Oh, yes !" he replied. 
 " Grande Riviere over yonder," pointing eastward. 
 
 " Very well. Take us towards Grande Riviere. The es- 
 tate we seek is in that neighborhood, about a league distant 
 from the village. ' ' 
 
 " But if we go to Grande Riviere, we mus' leave this 
 road to Milot and road from Grande Riviere to Milot 
 pretty bad." 
 
 " That does not matter. We have all day before us, and 
 we desire to visit that place first." 
 
 It was after they had, in accordance with this direction, 
 taken the road leading from Petite Anse to Grande Riviere 
 that the guide pointed out the ruins of great estates on 
 every side. Riding slowly, they paused now and then to 
 ask information of the persons they met all negroes of the 
 class of agricultural laborers, if the term can with any pro- 
 priety be applied to those whose labors are so small. But 
 none of these were able or willing to give the information 
 sought. Some merely stared when questioned, muttered a 
 word or two in patois, and went on ; others knew of such 
 a place, but were very indefinite in their description of the 
 locality where it might be found. 
 
 " All big fools, dese Haytian niggas !" said the Jamaican, 
 with scorn, after one of these encounters. " Bes' not talk 
 to 'em any mo', sah look for ourselves." 
 
 "We must be near the place, I think," observed De 
 Marsillac, whose excitement, though restrained, was now 
 intense. " Let us ride on."
 
 THE MAH OF THE FAMILY. 143 
 
 On they rode, the country around them growing con- 
 stantly more beautiful, with wooded hills making a back- 
 ground for the rich plain ; and ever beyond, the blue 
 majesty of the great mountains enthralling the vision. 
 
 Presently, attracted by a magnificent avenue of royal palms 
 the finest they had yet seen which led from massive 
 gate pillars of stone towards the ruins of a large house beau- 
 tifully situated on the crest of a gentle hill, beyond which 
 rose bolder heights, they paused again, and Atherton said : 
 
 " This may be the place we seek at least I think we 
 should examine it. We may find some one to tell us what 
 estate it is, and if " 
 
 He was stopped by an exclamation from his companion, 
 who pointed to one of the stone pillars on which was deeply 
 carved the name : 
 
 " Millefleurs." 
 
 Doubt was now at an end. The situation, the name, 
 both indicated that the De Marsillac estate was found. 
 Turning into the gateway, the party rode along the avenue 
 of palms which, fully a mile in length, crossed what had 
 once been fertile fields, but was now a scrub-covered waste. 
 The stately stems of the royal trees, exquisitely tapering, 
 rose on each side to a height of fifty or sixty feet, where 
 the great fronds of plumy foliage then sprang out and min- 
 gled high overhead, forming a vista which framed at its 
 termination the house towards which it led. Viewed from 
 a distance, it was difficult to believe this house a ruin, so 
 nobly did its walls still crown the eminence on which they 
 stood, and so little of decay was visible. But when the 
 end of the avenue had been reached, and, dismounting be- 
 fore a handsome flight of stone steps, where the attendants 
 were left with the horses, the two explorers (for such they
 
 144 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 felt themselves) ascended to a broad terrace, they saw that 
 what stood before them was indeed but a shell. Like the 
 ruins of the Cape, it was roofless, while great trees grew 
 within its walls, and vines of many kinds rioted through 
 the empty doorways and windows. 
 
 For a moment both remained motionless, regarding in 
 silence this melancholy wreck of a oncy stately and beauti- 
 ful home. With Atherton it was but another proof of the 
 complete destruction which had overwhelmed the civiliza- 
 tion of the island and doomed it to barbarism ; but to the 
 descendant of those who had for long years made this the 
 seat of their gay, luxurious life and boundless hospitality, 
 it had a more personal and tragic significance. Yet it was 
 not so much upon those days of prosperity that his thoughts 
 dwelt, as upon the insistent recollection of that night of 
 terror when the last possessor of this house had fled from it 
 to meet his death and leave a fortune lost behind him. 
 Again the thought, " Since then, I am the first of the race 
 to stand here !" brought with it a sense of something akin 
 to awe ; and, seeing how he was wrapped in memories of 
 the past, Atherton laid an imperative hand on his arm. 
 
 " Come !" he said. " There will be time enough for 
 dreams when we return. At present we must satisfy our- 
 selves without delay that this is the place we seek." 
 
 " The place we seek !" repeated the other, quickly rous- 
 ing himself. " How can there be any doubt ? The name 
 the situation " 
 
 " Then let us lose no time in finding the spot of which 
 we are in search. Where shall we look for it ?" 
 
 ' ' In the gardens. They must be in the rear of the 
 house." 
 
 " Come, then, and leave the ghosts behind, at least until 
 \ve find what we seek."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 145 
 
 " Poor ghosts !" said the boy, with a sigh, as they 
 moved away. 
 
 " And why ' poor ghosts ' ? They had their day which 
 is more than many ghosts can say and enjoyed it royally." 
 
 Passing around the ruins of the house, they found a wil- 
 derness which had once plainly been a place of delights. 
 A series of terraces cut out of the hillside were covered by 
 a tangled, luxuriant growth of such vegetation as only the 
 tropics can produce. Evidently every tree, plant and shrub 
 which could lend adornment had been brought thither ; 
 and, all restraining care long since removed, had, as if 
 exulting in recovered freedom, converted the beautiful 
 pleasure-ground into a very jungle an unimaginable mass 
 of broad green leaves and glowing blossoms ; of twining, 
 climbing parasites, and trees of magnificent growth spread- 
 ing thick crowns of foliage. Great bushes of heliotrope 
 filled the air with fragrance ; roses grown into trees were 
 covered with cascades of blossom ; immense clusters of pink 
 and yellow lilies flaunted in the sunshine ; the scarlet hibis- 
 cus burned like a flame ; bamboos clashed their tall, feath- 
 ery spears together ; ferns and palms of countless varieties 
 grew everywhere ; and over all myriads of vines, among 
 which the passion-flower and many-hued convolvuli were 
 conspicuous, rioted in wild grace. 
 
 To penetrate this overgrown, enchanting wilderness ap- 
 peared at first glance almost impossible ; but closer inspec- 
 tion revealed the fact that what had formerly been broad 
 walks and rose-lined avenues were not even yet wholly im- 
 passable ; and the two companions, making their way 
 wherever it was possible to do so, found everywhere evi- 
 dences of the beauty and luxury with which the old pos- 
 sessors had surrounded themselves. Balustrades and vases 
 wrought in stone still held their places ; while here and
 
 146 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 there were the empty basins of fountains once filled with 
 crystal water brought from the neighboring hills ; water 
 that also fed a great swimming-bath in a spot so pictu- 
 resquely secluded that Diana and her nymphs might have 
 sported in it. But, look where they would amid all this 
 wild luxuriance of loveliness, they failed to find a sun-dial 
 within a circle, so completely had the rampant vegeta- 
 tion obliterated all but a few demarcations of the 
 grounds. 
 
 " One thing only is certain," said De Marsillac, when, 
 disappointed, they finally returned to the first terrace, from 
 whence they overlooked all that lay below : " the spot we 
 seek is on the second terrace. ' On the second terrace 
 of the garden, at the east side of the sun-dial which stands 
 in the circle containing the statue of the nymph ' that is 
 what Henri de Marsillac wrote." 
 
 " It is explicit," replied Atherton. " A circle a sun- 
 dial a statue. We should be able to find those things, 
 for the place seems only ruined and abandoned : nothing 
 apparently has been taken away. I should judge that it 
 has never been occupied since Henri de Marsillac left it ; 
 which makes me sanguine that, when we discover the indi- 
 cated place, we shall find what he buried untouched." 
 
 Evidently his companion was also sanguine. Hope had 
 again taken possession of him like a flame, had lighted a 
 scarlet flush on his cheek and wakened a shining glow in 
 the brown eyes. He did not answer immediately, but stood, 
 studying with eager intentness every feature of the scene 
 below. Suddenly he pointed to where a large group of 
 citron-trees rose out of a mass of lower verdure on the sec- 
 ond terrace. 
 
 " Does it not seem to you that those trees form a cir- 
 cle?" he asked. " It looks to me as if they have grown
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 147 
 
 up from what was originally a hedge. If so, that may be 
 the place. Let us go to it." 
 
 Without waiting reply, he ran down the stone steps 
 which, still in a state of perfect preservation, led from one 
 terrace to another, and began breaking a way through the 
 dense growth that intervened between himself and the 
 citron- trees. Atherton followed ; and, after a few minutes 
 of difficult work which made the latter wish for a hatchet, 
 they reached the group, and found that, as the boy had 
 divined, they had indeed grown up out of what was once a 
 hedge, much of which still remained in the form of tall 
 bushes. Forcing a passage through these, they entered a 
 circle so completely enclosed by its wall of tall, green 
 foliage, so secluded, and so wrapped in the deep stillness 
 that comes from the absence of all signs of human life, that 
 it was like a spot enchanted. The same thought struck 
 both, as they looked around. Within this charmed and, 
 as it were, sentinelled space any operations might be con- 
 ducted with impunity from observation. A better place 
 for such work as they had to do could not be imagined. 
 But was it the place they sought ? 
 
 Impoccible at first to say. The whole interior of the cir- 
 cle was overgrown with the same luxuriant vegetation which 
 existed elsewhere, covering the space so entirely that what 
 else it contained was purely a matter of conjecture. Only 
 one fact was plain no statue stood there. If the other 
 silent witness for which they looked, if the sun-dial was 
 also missing, then one of two things was certain : either 
 this was not the circle sought, not the place where Henri 
 de Marsillac and his servant had buried the money and 
 jewels, or else the objects which marked it had been re- 
 moved. They looked at each other with the same appre- 
 hension.
 
 148 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " "We have a circle, but everything else seems lacking," 
 said Atherton. " I fear this is not the place." 
 
 " We cannot decide yet," answered the other. " I be- 
 lieve that it is the place." 
 
 " Then where are the sun-dial and the statue ?" 
 
 " We do not care where the statue may be, if we can find 
 the sun-dial. That alone is necessary. The other might 
 be overthrown, broken, carried away ; but no one is likely 
 to carry away a sun-dial. Where would it be situated ? 
 Ah, how stupid I am ! In the centre of the circle, of 
 course. There we must look for it." 
 
 Again waiting for no reply, he plunged into the tangled 
 mass of plants and vines and made his way towards 
 the centre. Reaching it after some difficulty, he 
 paused and glanced up at Atherton, who had followed 
 closely. 
 
 ' ' Are we exactly in the centre now ?' ' he asked. 
 
 " Exactly enough," Atherton replied, beating down the 
 riotous growth around them with a stick which he carried. 
 " And I see no sign of a sun-dial." 
 
 " How can you tell ?" cried the boy, in a sharp, nervoii* 
 tone. " It it must be here !" 
 
 He moved a few paces as he spoke and suddenly his 
 foot struck against something buried in the luxuriant ver- 
 dure ; and, stumbling, he almost fell. Atherton caught 
 his arm ; but he drew it quickly away, and with a cry fell 
 upon his knees. 
 
 " It is here ! it is here !" he exclaimed, with a sob of 
 passionate excitement and relief. " I have my hands upon 
 it oh, thank God !" 
 
 Other hands were upon it also the next moment hands 
 which paid no heed to thorns and briars as they tore away 
 the closely matted vegetation covering that which, once
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 14fl 
 
 cleared, revealed itself as indeed the old sun-dial beside 
 which Henri de Marsillac had buried his treasures. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " No," said Atherton half an hour later, " it will not 
 do to alter our plans. We must go on to Sans Souci and 
 the citadel, in order to support our character of sight-see- 
 ing travellers." 
 
 There was a mutinous light in the brown eyes that looked 
 up at him. The pedestal on which the statue of the 
 nymph erstwhile stood had been found on one side of the 
 circle ; but its present occupant, instead of the nymph, was 
 the slender figure of the boy. His attitude as he sat care- 
 lessly on the block of stone had, in these sylvan surround- 
 ings, a suggestion of faun-like grace ; while his face, from 
 which the hat was pushed back, with its flush of excite- 
 ment, its shining eyes, and damp, clustering curls, was 
 brilliantly handsome as he lifted it towards Atherton, who 
 stood beside him. 
 
 " Why should we support a character in which nobody is 
 interested ?" he asked, with some impatience. " Who has 
 noticed us ? Who will care whether we are sight-seeing 
 travellers or or anything else ?" 
 
 " Let us once give reason for the suspicion that we are 
 anything else, especially seekers of buried valuables, and I 
 fear we should excite an interest far too lively for our com- 
 fort or perhaps our safety," Atherton answered. " We 
 must conduct this affair with every precaution that pru- 
 dence can suggest. And although I grant that it is hard, 
 having found the place of the treasure, not to assure our-
 
 150 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 selves at once that it is there, still it is but a short time 
 that we have to wait for the assurance ; and our safety de- 
 pends on our exercising due discretion." 
 
 "How can you tell," demanded the boy, "that while 
 we are gone it may not be discovered " 
 
 "After having remained undiscovered for a century? 
 Ask your common sense if that is possible. ' ' 
 
 " Or we might be killed by some accident, and never re- 
 turn ; that is possible, you must admit." 
 
 " Possible, but not very probable, I hope. I am sorry 
 to thwart your wishes, but my judgment tells me that it is 
 necessary for the success of our plans that the original pro- 
 gramme should be carried out. We must go on." 
 
 "But if I insist upon staying?" said the boy passion- 
 ately. " After all, it is / who have come here to seek what 
 is buried in this spot, and it is on my success that every- 
 thing depends." 
 
 Atherton felt himself growing angry. He did not take 
 into consideration the intense excitement which possessed 
 the speaker ; nor how hard it was, in the face of long ex- 
 pectation wrought to battling hope and fear, to turn away 
 still in suspense, knowing as little as he had known in dis- 
 tant Louisiana whether or not Henri de Marsillac's hidden 
 treasures did or did not lie untouched beside the old sun- 
 diaL He only perceived an unreasonable obstinacy and 
 folly, as well as forgetfulness of all his efforts to make suc- 
 cess possible. 
 
 " Very true/' he replied coldly. "It is your interests 
 alone which are at stake in this matter ; and if you choose 
 to risk them, I have no right to prevent you from doing so. 
 Stay if you like. I fancied you something more than a 
 foolish child ready to throw away everything rather than 
 restrain impatience ; but that, it seems, is what you are."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 151 
 
 He turned and walked away, leaving behind him on the 
 pedestal of the nymph a very crestfallen person. To have 
 full liberty accorded to do that which is unwise or wrong 
 is with some natures the surest means of rousing reflection, 
 awakening conscience, and preventing such action. So it 
 was now with De Marsillac. Thus suddenly granted what 
 he asked, shame overtook him. He had no thought of re- 
 senting Atherton's last words ; he was only struck with a 
 deep sense of his own ungrateful perversity displayed 
 towards one who had done and was doing so much for 
 him ; and, springing from his seat, he followed the 
 tall figure still striding away. In his eagerness to make 
 amends for the folly which had wounded his friend, it 
 hardly cost him a pang to turn his back upon the sun- 
 dial. 
 
 "Mr. Atherton !" he cried. And then, as Atherton 
 paused and turned, he went on quickly : " Forgive me for 
 being so obstinate and foolish. I will certainly go on, if 
 you think it best." 
 
 "lam sure it is best," Atherton replied. His anger 
 melted at once at sight of the contrition and appeal in the 
 beautiful eyes uplifted to his own. What strange power 
 did this lad possess to disarm him at a word ? He asked 
 himself the question with something of wonder, as he laid 
 his hand on the young shoulder. " My dear boy,' ' he add- 
 ed, in his kindest tones, " do you think I would ask you 
 to go if I did not know what success means to you, and 
 how necessary it is to take every precaution against fail- 
 ure ? Suspense is hard to bear do you suppose I am not 
 feeling it in sympathy with you ? but you who have borne 
 it from Louisiana to Hayti can surely bear it from Mille- 
 fleurs to La Ferriere and back." 
 
 " There is no comparison," was the reply. " The first
 
 152 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 had to be borne, but this to have stood on the spot and 
 yet not know " 
 
 " You may know ; for, after all, there is no reason for 
 suspense. We may be sure that had the spot ever been 
 disturbed, the sun-dial would not be standing where it is : 
 it would have been overthrown, cast aside. Those who se- 
 cured the treasure would never have left it untouched, nor 
 paused to put it back in its place." 
 
 " That is true" (reflectively). " The fact that the sun- 
 dial stands there is proof that what lies beside it is undis- 
 turbed. Thank you for the suggestion. And yet and yet 
 it makes me desire still more to secure at once what has 
 waited for me so long." 
 
 " It can wait a little longer. What are twenty- four 
 hours after a century ?" 
 
 " Nothing, of course," the boy answered. "But we 
 that is my family have had so many misfortunes that 
 you will think me very superstitious I feel as if it were 
 hardly possible for good fortune to come to us. One grows 
 to feel that way, you know. And so I can never believe in 
 the reality of what we hope is buried there until I see it. 
 And, if it exists, I have a fear that if I turn away from it 
 now I shall never be so near it again." 
 
 " Come," said Atherton once more, taking forcible hold 
 of his arm and leading him on. " This is superstition in- 
 deed ; and if I listen to you longer, I shall be foolish enough 
 to be moved by it. Let us get away at once !" 
 
 The sun was setting when the travellers, descending the 
 rocky hill above Milot, down which their road wound, saw 
 before them, in the exquisite evening light, the beautiful 
 valley like a dream of Paradise, covered with verdure and 
 dotted with cocoa palms, its village embowered in groves of 
 luxuriant fruit-trees ; while crowning the brow of a hill at
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 153 
 
 its farther end shone majestically, against a background of 
 verdnre-clad mountains, the yellow walls of the palace of 
 Sans Souci. 
 
 " What a picture !" cried Atherton, reining in his horse. 
 " I doubt if the world can match it for mingled softness 
 and grandeur. African savage though he was, Christophe 
 knew well how to choose the site of his palace. Nothing 
 more beautiful could be conceived." 
 
 " Nothing," assented the boy beside him. " It looks 
 like an ideal abode of peace ; yet one shudders to think 
 what atrocities it has witnessed. ' ' 
 
 " Do not think of them. Nature forgets, and why 
 should not we ? Heaven ! what a fate it was that con- 
 signed this island into such hands ! If it were any other 
 land one would be tempted to make one's home forever in 
 such a spot as this. " 
 
 " Beg pardon, sah !" said the guide ; " but it'll be dark 
 in a few minutes, and we better go on to Milot and 
 find lodgin' 'fore night." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that we could find any lodging in 
 that village fit for our occupation ?" asked Atherton. 
 
 " Schoolmaster, sah, got pretty good house. He take 
 you in." 
 
 " We will not trouble him. We have brought a tent and 
 hammocks, and intend to camp in some pleasant place out- 
 side the village." 
 
 The man glanced at the great, furrowed mountains, 
 above which rested dark masses of cloud that the sunset 
 was gilding with glorious, coppery gold. 
 
 " Tent bery good when we got nuffin else, sah," he 
 remonstrated ; " but house better to-night. See big clouds 
 yonder? Sure rain 'fore mornin'." 
 
 So into the village of palm-thatched houses, sheltered
 
 154 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 under great, spreading banana, guava, and mango trees, 
 they rode ; black faces looking at them on every side, 
 though with less curiosity than would have been displayed 
 in any other country village ; for of the few travellers who 
 come to Hayti all go to Sans Souci and the citadel, so that 
 the people of Milot are more acquainted with the appear- 
 ance of strangers than any others outside the seaport towns. 
 
 The schoolmaster proved to be a perfectly black man, 
 but speaking pure French. He put his house at the dis- 
 posal of the visitors with a courtesy which left nothing to 
 be desired in that respect at least, though much might 
 have been desired in others. Although the best in the vil- 
 lage, it was little more than a hut ; and it was necessary, 
 in order to secure a night's rest, to hang the hammocks 
 they had wisely brought. 
 
 They were repaid, however, for any discomfort, not only 
 by the fact that the rain came down in pouring torrents, 
 from which their tent would have proved but an ineffectual 
 shelter, but also by the discovery that their host was an 
 educated and intelligent man, from whom it was possible 
 to obtain much information. He spoke with reserve upon 
 the present condition and government of Hayti, nor did 
 they press him to expand upon that point ; but of the past, 
 of the recollections and traditions still existing in this spot 
 of the reign of the black King Christophe, he talked freely 
 and interestingly. It was Atherton who presently made a 
 diversion of topic. 
 
 "These mountains ought to contain mineral wealth," 
 he remarked, " since the mountains of Santo Domingo 
 near by are known to abound in it. Has nothing of the 
 kind ever been discovered ?" 
 
 The man shook his head. " I think not, Monsieur," he 
 replied. " Had there been any mines, Christophe would
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 155 
 
 have had them worked, though it had been necessary to 
 place an overseer . over every miner. You know how he 
 forced the people to cultivate the sugar estates. Ma foi ! 
 they had never to work so hard in the days of the old pro- 
 prietors." 
 
 " But Christophe probably possessed no knowledge of 
 mines/' Atherton answered. ' ' I agree with you that he 
 would certainly have had them worked, had he known of 
 their existence. I am aware that this is not supposed to 
 be a gold country ; but there are other minerals besides 
 gold, some of which it is more than likely these mountains 
 contain." 
 
 " It may be so, Monsieur. I do not know. No one, to 
 my knowledge, has ever looked for them." 
 
 " I have thought of looking as we go up into the moun- 
 tains to visit the citadel. It is not likely that any one would 
 object?" 
 
 11 1 do not see why any one should object, Monsieur," 
 was the guarded reply. " But our people are inclined to 
 be suspicious of strangers ; and you know that even if you 
 found a mine it would not be possible for you to own it." 
 
 " I am aware of that, and should not expect to profit by 
 any discovery I made. My curiosity is purely scientific, 
 and, of course, I shall not allow it to lead me very far. 
 But these mountains offer a most interesting field for ex- 
 ploration " 
 
 '* Why do you talk in this manner ?" interrupted De 
 Marsillac, speaking in English. " Do you really think of 
 wasting time on this pretence ?' ' 
 
 " Be more guarded," replied Atherton quietly. " One 
 never knows how much of a language presumably unknown 
 might be understood. I thought I explained to you the 
 object I have in this prospecting."
 
 156 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " But I thought it was to be done after after " 
 
 " We had accomplished our purpose? You are right. 
 But it may be well to pick up a few stones in these moun- 
 tains, if we can do so without too much delay." 
 
 " Ah, pray let there be no delay ! The pre the pro- 
 specting is not worth delay." 
 
 " I promise you that the delay, if any, shall be so little 
 that even your impatience will be able to bear it for the 
 sake of the end in view ; and that end I will explain to you 
 more fully to-morrow." 
 
 After the rain of the night, the morning was of the most 
 exquisite freshness and beauty, when the two friends hav- 
 ing presented their permit to visit the citadel to the general 
 commanding the station, who graciously intimated that 
 they might proceed went to view the ruined palace of 
 Sans Souci. 
 
 Imposing as it appeared from afar, they were not pre- 
 pared for the magnificence to which it testified in the gran- 
 deur and extent of the buildings, though shattered by 
 earthquake and destroyed by time. Climbing the long 
 flight of steps leading to the esplanade, they paused in 
 amazement before the palace, still majestic in its architec- 
 ture and its strength, notwithstanding that trees are grow- 
 ing amid its roofless chambers and fringing its broken arch- 
 ways ; still forming, as it stands in its superbly command- 
 ing situation, with the lovely valley at its feet and the 
 noble heights of the great mountain range behind, a lasting 
 monument of the wonderful and terrible man who erected 
 it. Within, the different apartments connected with his 
 story were pointed out to them : the throne-room where he 
 held his court, while his trembling subjects knelt before 
 him with averted faces ; the ealons, once furnished with 
 all the luxury of Europe and hung with costly tapestries ;
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 157 
 
 the chapel where can it be possible he ever prayed ? and 
 the room (now inaccessible from a falling stair) where he 
 ended his life by his own hand when the downfall of his 
 power had come. On the terrace stands the great caimito, 
 or star-apple-tree, under which he was accustomed to hold 
 audiences with his officers ; while all around are the ruins 
 of buildings stables, storehouses, arsenals, barracks, and 
 other offices indicative of the busy throng of life once 
 called into existence here by a despotic will, and now per- 
 vaded by the silence of death. 
 
 " No description prepares one for it," said Atherton, as, 
 forgetting the need for haste impressed upon them by their 
 guides, they wandered over the wonderful place. <k One 
 must see it in order to believe that anything so amazing 
 ever existed here." 
 
 " What superhuman energy he must have possessed, that 
 terrible Christophe," said De Marsillac, " to have accom- 
 plished this and the erection of the fortress, of which one 
 is told such marvels, in the space of fourteen years for 
 that, I believe, was the length of his reign !" 
 
 " And what a thirst for luxury and beauty, as well as 
 power," added Atherton. " Here, in his ruined palace, 
 let us at least say this for him : that he alone of the rulers 
 of Hayti has done anything save destroy. Among them 
 all Christophe alone strove to create strove indeed with 
 the ignorance and boundless cruelty of a savage, but with a 
 fierce genius, an indomitable will, and a blind groping 
 towards civilization, from which one cannot withhold a 
 certain tribute of admiration. He seems to me something 
 of a black Peter the Great at least, the strong desire of 
 each was the same : to raise a barbarous people at once to a 
 state of civilization." 
 
 " The comparison is most unflattering to Peter the
 
 158 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Great," replied De Marsillac, " and I think most unde- 
 served by Christophe but here comes George to remon- 
 strate again on our delay. n 
 
 The guide was this time so pressing in his representa 
 tions of the necessity for reaching the citadel before thj 
 heat of the day that he succeeded in his object of drawing 
 them away from this place of beautiful desolation and 
 tragic memories, and starting without further delay upon 
 the ride to the fortress of La Ferriere. 
 
 Leaving Milot, their road, which soon became a mere 
 trail, led them into the heart of the giant hills, passing at 
 first through groves of wild coffee and banana trees ; then 
 into the marvellous forests which cover these great heights ; 
 along the bases and skirting the brinks of immense preci- 
 pices ; growing steeper with every mile, but opening at 
 every turn such enchanting views of land and distant sea 
 that its difficulties and roughness were almost forgotten. 
 Wonderful tropical growths of tree and plant and vine 
 lined their way, and filled the deep green chasms far below 
 them, where waters often unseen, then again flashing like 
 silver into sight filled the solitude with their music ; 
 while over the broken masses of verdure-clad heights the 
 gaze passed to rest on fairy valleys, and then on the blue 
 plain stretching to the glittering azure of the bluer sea. 
 
 At the end of two hours they were thousands of feet 
 above that sea, far in the bosom of the mountains, remote 
 from all signs of human life, in a region full only of the 
 wildest grandeur and most infinite loveliness of Nature. 
 And as they went onward yet onward, upward yet upward, 
 their wonder grew at the thought that into these apparent- 
 ly inaccessible wilds, along this steep and difficult way, the 
 material for and ordnance of a fortress had been conveyed 
 by wretched, toiling men.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 159 
 
 " If one could forget that, it would be possible to enjoy 
 the beauty much more," De Marsillac said. " But I can- 
 not banish from my mind the recollection of the unspeak- 
 able sufferings endured by the unhappy slaves of your black 
 Peter the Great, as they dragged up these tremendous hills 
 the stones and mighty guns of his citadel above." 
 
 " Poor devils !" said Atherton. " Dead as they are, one 
 must pity them. But why think of these things since they 
 affect you so much ? You have the heart of a woman, my 
 dear boy !" 
 
 " Do women alone compassionate suffering?" asked the 
 other, turning away his face. But he said no more of the 
 victims of the cruel king. 
 
 There was indeed scant opportunity for conversation, as 
 they climbed the last and steepest ascent to the summit of 
 the mountain five thousand feet above the sea which the 
 famous fortress crowns, and saw its mighty walls at last 
 towering above them. 
 
 Nearly a hundred feet in height, and from fifteen to 
 twenty feet in thickness, these walls seem in their stupen- 
 dous massiveness to form part of the rock on which they 
 stand. Though rent in places by earthquake shocks, even 
 the earthquake could not cast them down ; and they still 
 cover the entire peak of the mountain, rising abruptly from 
 the very edge of its precipitous sides. Words fail to de- 
 scribe adequately this marvellous proof of what human 
 effort can accomplish under the compulsion of a tyrant's will. 
 
 The custodian an old and ragged negro having been 
 summoned, the visitors were admitted through a ponder- 
 ous door into the grim darkness of the tower, whence a 
 covered way led to the deep fosse, over which they crossed 
 on a narrow plank (the drawbridge having disappeared) into 
 the interior of the immense edifice. Once within, amaze-
 
 160 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ment became, if possible, even greater. Through gallery 
 after gallery, filled with long rows of cannon, they threaded 
 their way; and as they looked at the great guns heavy 
 fifty-six and thirty-six pounders which frowned through 
 every porthole and guarded every approach, they were 
 hardly able to believe the undoubted fact that these stu- 
 pendous engines of destruction were conveyed to the spot by 
 the unaided and almost incredible labor of man alone. Cer- 
 tainly no one seeing them, and regarding with awe the 
 mighty walls built to receive them, can doubt the statement 
 that at least thirty thousand human beings perished in the 
 construction of this wonderful fortification. 
 
 As it was his intention to make this citadel a last and im- 
 pregnable retreat in case of attack especially from the 
 French, whose return he always feared Christophe ac- 
 cumulated within it vast stores of ammunition and also of 
 treasure. In the magazines built for the first are still to 
 be seen thousands of flints and balls ; while the accounts 
 given of the immense quantity of gold, silver and precious 
 articles found here after his death would seem fabulous 
 were not the names on record of those who became rich 
 from the plunder of the treasure- vaults of La Ferriere. 
 
 Into these vaults the two visitors were led ; and it was 
 with the strange sensation of realizing a fairy tale that they 
 saw the great old chests, clamped and bound with iron, 
 which had contained the tyrant's treasures ; their locks 
 broken and their lids wrenched off, just as they were left 
 by the plunderers who sacked the castle. 
 
 " It was a splendid looting," said Atherton, looking at 
 his companion, as they stood a strange group enough, in 
 the fitful light of a torch which their guide carried in the 
 dark vault beside the empty chests. " Thirty millions of 
 dollars are said to have been found here. What a com-
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 161 
 
 mentary on the wealth of the island, when one considers 
 the regal luxury in which Christophe lived and the vast ex- 
 penses he was constantly incurring !" 
 
 "How do you think he accumulated it?" asked De 
 Marsillac. 
 
 " Primarily, no doubt, by appropriating the wealth of 
 the old proprietors, of which, in the form of money, there 
 must have been an immense amount ; and, secondarily, 
 from the labors of the people whom he forced to cultivate 
 the sugar estates by the most cruel methods. But whether 
 by the one means or the other, these chests, with their 
 story of hidden riches, have a suggestion for us. Do you 
 know what it is ?" 
 
 " Not a suggestion of robbery, I hope ?" 
 
 " No. And not a suggestion, either, so much as an as- 
 surance that there is nothing improbable in the belief that 
 one of the rich proprietors of this rich island might readily 
 have had a very considerable amount of solid cash in hand 
 to secrete when surprised by the insurrection. Now we 
 will see the empty tomb of the great savage who built this 
 marvellous monument for himself ; and then go up on the 
 walls for the view, which must be glorious." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IT is doubtful if the earth can show anything more beau- 
 tiful than the view from the walls of the fortress of La 
 Ferriere. Magnificent in extent for the lofty mountain 
 dominates all the northern portion of the island it is also 
 of surpassing loveliness, from the blending of land and sea 
 in the vast picture, and the exquisite tints with which Na-
 
 162 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ture robes herself in these enchanted regions. Immediately 
 around, and far as the gaze can sweep eastward, are moun- 
 tains and yet again mountains, broken, tossed, confused ; 
 green near by, since covered to their summits with dense 
 tropical verdure, but melting afar into the most ethereal 
 azure. Among them lie valleys so completely enclosed 
 that it seems as if no outlet were possible from them ; and 
 deep gorges where the foot of man has rarely, if ever, pene- 
 trated through the luxuriance of vegetation which fills 
 them. Clouds abound, enveloping the highest peaks in 
 soft white masses, sun-kissed to dazzling splendor ; piled 
 rampart-like behind others, and yet again moving majes- 
 tically across the sky, and turning some great mountain- 
 side to darkest purple with their shadows. But, noble as 
 are the forms and masses of the immense furrowed heights, 
 and heavenly as are the tints in which they drape them- 
 selves as they recede, they cannot detain the gaze from the 
 wide scene northward the long sweep of the magical blue 
 plain to the city and bay of the Cape, and the boundless 
 expanse of shining ocean beyond, flashing to the horizon. 
 On the left the isle of Tortuga, that old home of the buc- 
 caneers, rises picturesquely out of the waters which sur- 
 round it ; while to the right the lovely Bay of Manzanilla 
 lies ; and farther still the dream-like heights of Monte- 
 Christo stand between a yet more dream-like sea and sky. 
 
 And of the air which comes to these high battlements, 
 fresh with the salt freshness of the sea, fraught with the 
 thousand perfumes of the odorous land, and pure as the 
 heaven into which it blows, what words can speak ! It is 
 delightful and invigorating as an elixir of life ; and Ather- 
 ton, while expanding his lungs with it, said to himself that 
 there was healing in it for any ill that mortal frame could 
 know ; and that, whether by accident or design, he had been
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 1G3 
 
 fed to the land of all lands which suited him best. Again 
 and yet again, gazing over its outspread beauty and think- 
 ing of its untold fertility, he marvelled at the fate which 
 had befallen this enchanting island, so rich in all that Na- 
 ture can give in her most prodigal mood. 
 
 " One would like to turn buccaneer and reconquer it/' 
 he said ; and De Marsillac smiled. 
 
 " I have been thinking that/' he answered ; " and wish- 
 ing that we were in the robust days when it would have 
 been done without a moment's hesitation." 
 
 " As far as that goes, these days are quite sufficiently 
 robust," said Atherton. " We have not developed any 
 very high conscience with regard to the rights of savages 
 to occupy a land they cannot develop as witness the 
 march of Europeans into Africa. Yet here is a land more 
 beautiful, more fruitful than any part of the Dark Conti- 
 nent, left in the hands of absolute savages, because, for- 
 sooth ! the nations are like watch-dogs : 
 
 '**... snarling at each other's heels. ' ' 
 
 " Absolute savages indeed !" said the other. " I won- 
 der, by the bye, if this terrible precipice down which we are 
 gazing is what was called ' the Grand Boucan ' because of 
 the vast number of wretched creatures whom Christophe 
 had hurled over it ? That was one of his favorite modes of 
 execution, you know." 
 
 " What an awful pleasantry the Grand Boucan !" ob- 
 served Atherton. " Yes, I fancy this must be the place ; 
 for, sheer and steep as the mountain sides are all around, 
 this is the most sheer descent of all. A man flung from 
 this wall would fall at least a thousand feet probably 
 more." 
 
 " Perhaps the bones of his innumerable victims are
 
 164 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 whitening down there yet," said the boy, gazing as if fasci- 
 nated into the abyss. Then suddenly he looked away, very 
 pale. " Does it not make you dizzy and faint to gaze from 
 such a height ?" he asked his companion. 
 
 The latter smiled. " No," he replied. "I have tested 
 my head too often in mountain-climbing. Two years ago 
 I ascended the Matterhorn. That settles once for all what 
 kind of a head one has ; for if it fails there one does not 
 return to tell the tale." 
 
 " But why risk your life on the steadiness of your head 
 merely to climb a mountain ?' ' 
 
 " Ah ! that is a question which cannot be answered to 
 the satisfaction of anybody who does not know the fascina- 
 tion of such climbing and such danger. As for me, 1 am 
 fond of exploring iu all forms ; and if I am doomed to be 
 an idler, I shall become a wanderer and endeavor to leave 
 no spot of the globe unseen. Will you wander with me ? 
 It is thanks to you that I am here to-day ; and I think 
 in fact, I am sure that \ve should make good comrades." 
 
 The boy laughed. " You forget," he said, " that I am 
 the man of the family at home. They could not do with- 
 out me." 
 
 " I did forget that important fact," replied Atherton ; 
 " although you have told me of it before. But when you 
 have arranged the affair of Mademoiselle Diane, there will 
 be nothing to detain you longer." 
 
 " On the contrary, there will be everything. I attend 
 to the plantation ; I see to all matters of business ; I in 
 short, I am necessary to them." 
 
 " Happy boy ! To be necessary to anybody is a great 
 privilege ; but when it is to an entire family of charming 
 women, the privilege becomes immense." 
 
 " You are laughing at me," said the other simply.
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 165 
 
 " You think I exaggerate my own importance ; and it is 
 not strange you should think so, since I look since I am 
 so young. But they would all tell you the same thing at 
 home. And now isn't it time we were starting back ? We 
 have seen all the castle ; and if we are to reach Millefleurs 
 before night " 
 
 Atherton glanced around. The group of their attend- 
 ants were at some distance, evidently listening while the 
 old custodian dilated, as his gestures showed, upon the 
 Grand Boucan ; and the Jamaica guide translated his words 
 for the benefit of the Englishman, whose countenance was 
 a study of disgust and horror. The two were thus left 
 quite alone together on the high wall of this strange cita- 
 del, amid the solitary hills. 
 
 " We will start soon," Atherton then answered. " But 
 first let me explain to you more fully than it seems I have 
 yet explained why I think the pretence of looking for min- 
 erals necessary. Stones, even if they possess no real value, 
 are heavy. If I fill a couple of sacks, which I have taken 
 the precaution to bring, with specimens picked up in these 
 hills, do you not understand that it is in order to empty 
 them out at Millefleurs should we find what we hope for 
 and substitute for them the gold which we could not 
 otherwise carry without rousing suspicion ?" 
 
 " You have thought of everything, "said the boy ; " and 
 I am most ungrateful to find any fault. Of course you are 
 right, and I understand now why you talked of minerals to 
 the schoolmaster at Milot last night." 
 
 " Believe me, we cannot take too many precautions to 
 avoid any risk of suspicion. If it were once known that 
 we were engaged in raising hidden treasure, do you think 
 you would be allowed to retain even the least part of it? 
 And now, taking all these things into consideration, can
 
 166 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 you support with philosophy the thought of spending an- 
 other night in Milot should we reach there late, and not re- 
 turning to Millefleurs until to-morrow ?" 
 
 11 If. I must, why" with a sigh " I can. But is it 
 really necessary ? Can you not merely pause on our way 
 down long enough to pick up some stones ? I suppose any 
 stones will do." 
 
 " I should prefer some containing mineral in observable 
 quantity, if possible ; for I have Mr. Hoffman to consider 
 as well as the guide. These hills are certain to contain de- 
 posits of one kind or another." 
 
 "Well" with another sigh "you must do what you 
 think best, and I will try to be patient. But it will be 
 rather a joke upon us if we carry the stones to Millefleurs 
 and do not find the gold." 
 
 " I have no doubt of finding the gold ; but whether I 
 had doubt or not, I should carry the stones," Atherton an- 
 swered. " A wise general does not wait to load his guns 
 until he is in the presence of the enemy. Now, one last 
 
 look over this scene of Paradise, and then allons /" 
 ***** 
 
 It was an hour later, as they were descending the steep 
 road along which they had ascended not more labo- 
 riously, that Atherton, who was riding in front of the 
 cavalcade, suddenly called a halt by stopping his own 
 horse. 
 
 " George," he said, turning to address the guide, " I see 
 another trail here leading off from ours. Do you know 
 anything about it ?" 
 
 " No, sah, nuffin," George answered decidedly. " Neber 
 been anywheres here 'cept to de citadel." 
 
 " Where do you suppose this probably leads ?" 
 
 " Ober de mountain to some valley, sah, where dere's a
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 167 
 
 village. Can't lead nowheres else. Mus' be pretty far off, 
 too," he added. 
 
 " Well, I am not interested in its ultimate destination, 
 but I am going to follow it for a short distance ; for I 
 think it goes deeper into the hills than ours." 
 
 " Lord, sah !" remonstrated the startled George. " Ain't 
 we deep 'nough in de hills now ? Better stick to de road ; 
 might git los' in all dis wildness." 
 
 " How can we possibly get lost if we keep the trail ? All 
 we shall need to do when we want to return is to retrace 
 our steps. Gilbert, have you the prospecting tools ready ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, all ready," replied Gilbert. 
 
 " Then follow me, all of you. Henri, you have no fear 
 of being lost, I suppose ? I merely want to take a look at 
 those hills over yonder." 
 
 "Not the least fear," De Marsillac said readily and 
 truthfully enough ; for Atherton's last words to him as 
 they mounted beneath the castle walls had been : " Ifc will 
 not do to find my mineral deposit immediately on the road. 
 That, you know, would be too easily verified. So don't be 
 surprised if I lead you into some less accessible spot." 
 
 The less accessible spot was to be sought now ; and, with 
 an earnest hope that this trying but indispensable pretence 
 might soon be over, the boy turned his horse into the 
 scarcely perceptible trail which Atherton's keen glance had 
 perceived. Branching abruptly from their road, it wound 
 off around the shoulder of the mountain in a southeast- 
 wardly direction, and speedily plunged into an even wilder 
 region than any they had yet seen. Giant heights, forest 
 clad to their crests, enclosed them ; deep green gorges 
 opened below ; and, save for the path they were following, 
 there was not a token of man's presence in all the solitude 
 of Nature.
 
 168 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Continuing to wind around the hills rather than descend 
 abruptly like the road they had left, the trail led them on 
 until it finally dipped to cross the mouth of a deep, narrow 
 ravine, through which a hidden stream flowed with much 
 sweet music of falling, tumbling, rushing water. And 
 here Atherton halted again. 
 
 " I can find no better place than this," he said to De 
 Marsillac, who was near him. " In such canons one looks 
 for minerals, because the erosions of the water have through 
 long ages laid bare the secrets of the rocks. Then dis- 
 mounting, ' ' Gilbert, give me my hammer. " 
 
 " Shall I come with you, Mr. Atherton ?" asked the 
 man, as, dismounting in turn, he brought the implement 
 desired. 
 
 " Yes. Bring a pick and the sacks. George, you will 
 stay here with the horses. Henri, what are you about ?" 
 
 " Coming with you, of course," the person addressed an- 
 swered, as he swung himself out of the saddle. " Do you 
 think I have no spirit of an explorer ?" 
 
 Atherton laughed. 
 
 " You can't be of the least service," he said ; " and 
 you'll find it very hard work to break through this under- 
 growth. But come along if you like. We shall follow up 
 the stream." 
 
 Following the stream proved to be difficult work, so 
 dense was the growth along its banks ; while overhead 
 branches and foliage intertwined so closely that sunlight 
 was entirely excluded, and a dim, green twilight reigned. 
 The soil was covered with a thick tangle of ferns, moss, and 
 an immense variety of plants for which the strangers knew 
 no name ; interlacing vines leaped from tree to tree, and 
 luxuriant parasites filled every open space ; while through 
 this exquisite world of greenery the flashing water came in
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 169 
 
 crystal pools, which mirrored the feathery tendrils and 
 gorgeous blossoms drooping above them. 
 
 Although taking little interest in the search for minerals, 
 save that of wishing it well over, De Marsillac was struck 
 by the manner in which Atherton seemed bent upon thor- 
 oughly carrying out the form of seeking. Wherever along 
 the banks of the stream the least outcropping of rock ap- 
 peared through the luxuriant vegetation, he paused to ex- 
 amine it ; and after one or two of these pauses seemed to 
 become as interested as if the search had been a reality in- 
 stead of a pretence. At least so the observer said to him- 
 self, until at last, becoming weary of the struggle through 
 the dense undergrowth, and of a tramp which seemed lead- 
 ing them farther and farther into the wildest recesses of 
 the hills whose steeply towering sides rose above them, he 
 ventured on a remonstrance. 
 
 " Don't you think," he said, as they paused for the fifth 
 or sixth time where aqueous erosion had laid bare a ledge 
 of rock on the side of the stream, " that this would serve 
 your purpose without going farther ?' ' 
 
 Atherton, who was bending over the spot, breaking off 
 fragments of rock with the pick, looked up, somewhat 
 flushed and breathless. 
 
 " Without going farther !" he repeated, and then he 
 laughed. " A curious thing has happened. Sham has 
 turned into earnest. I have found gold !" 
 
 "What! really?" 
 
 " Yes, really. Do you know it when you see it ? Here 
 is a piece of ore showing free gold." He drew from the 
 outside pocket of his coat a small fragment of quartz, and 
 pointed to one or two tiny spots upon it. " This," he 
 said, "is what miners call 'float' brought down the 
 stream from a vein above. As certainly as we stand here,
 
 170 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 my dear boy, there is a mine a genuine mine of gold in 
 these hills." 
 
 " It is very strange that you should have chanced upon 
 the signs of it," said De Marsillac, looking with wonder at 
 the bit of ore which told so much. " But you are not 
 going to search for the mine itself, are you ?" he added 
 presently. " It does not concern us." 
 
 " It concerns us to have something genuine to show for 
 our prospecting, and something astonishing too. Gold has 
 never, I think, been found before in these Haytian moun- 
 tains. Consequently, this is an immensely interesting 
 find ; and you must bear with me while I follow it up." 
 
 " Will it be of value to you ?" 
 
 "To me no, nor probably to anyone else. But you 
 don't consider scientific curiosity. I must find where this 
 float has come from." 
 
 Further remonstrance would have been both useless and 
 ungracious. The boy sighed partly from weariness, part- 
 ly from longing to turn his face towards Millefleurs but 
 made no remark ; and followed the toilsome ascent of the 
 gorge, when the speaker, returning the pick to Gilbert, 
 went on. 
 
 It was perhaps unfortunate, at least De Marsillac thought 
 so, that Afcherton's interest was stimulated by finding other 
 bits of float, as they followed the stream, which led them 
 with every step higher as well as deeper among the hills ; 
 for the spirit of a prospector was now thoroughly aroused 
 in him, and none the less because cupidity lent no zest to 
 it. The find could be, as he had already remarked, of no 
 value to him ; nevertheless, his interest was intensely ex- 
 cited in tracing out this secret of Nature, which, hidden 
 from the eyes of other men for centuries, was now revealed 
 to his.
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 171 
 
 So on, still on they went, Atherton growing more ab- 
 sorbed as the scent, in hunting phrase, grew warmer ; and 
 De Marsillac more fatigued from the double labor of forcing 
 a way through the undergrowth and of climbing, for they 
 were now ascending the mountain which headed the gorge. 
 
 And here as Atherton knew must be the case he 
 found at last that which he sought. Cut by the action of 
 the stream in its downward course, the vein from which 
 the float had come was revealed on either bank a distinct- 
 ly marked strata of unmistakable gold-bearing quartz. 
 
 Atherton uttered an exclamation as exultant as if he had 
 been a Colorado miner seeking his fortune, when he saw 
 the ledge of stream-washed and decomposed rock. 
 
 " Eureka !" he cried. " I knew it must be here. 
 Henri, we have found the mine !" 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 DE MARSILLAC was not in a condition to join in Ather- 
 ton's exultation. He was, in fact, completely exhausted. 
 The determination not to acknowledge weariness had made 
 him follow resolutely on the long, fatiguing tramp and 
 climb ; but it afforded him no voice now with which to 
 reply to his companion's words. He could only lean against 
 a tree breathless, with his heart beating painfully. 
 
 "Better sit down, sir," said Gilbert, who, not so ab- 
 sorbed as his master, saw and pitied the boy's plight. 
 " You look quite done up. It's been tough work getting 
 here." 
 
 " I forgot you were not an old mountaineer like myself," 
 said Atherton, glancing round ; "or I shouldn't have
 
 172 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 pressed on so fast. Gilbert, haven't you anything to give 
 him ?" 
 
 "I don't need anything," the boy said, with pale lips. 
 "I'm only a little out of breath. I'll be all right in a 
 few minutes." 
 
 " This'll put you right quicker, sir," said Gilbert, pro 
 ducing a pocket-flask. " I always carries something of the 
 kind on such hexpeditions. One never knows what'll 'ap- 
 pen, 'specially in a country as wild as this for wilder I've 
 never seen." 
 
 De Marsillac did not refuse the draught offered him, and 
 soon felt the benefit of it, so that he was able to move for- 
 ward and examine the find. 
 
 " And this is a gold mine !" he said, looking at the seam 
 of quartz from which Atherton was knocking fragments. 
 
 " This is a gold mine !" the other replied, with the note 
 of triumph still in his voice. " Isn't it a remarkable thing 
 that I should have found that piece of float, which turned 
 pretence into reality ? Now, if this were only in any other 
 country, you might take from here a fortune greater than 
 the one your ancestor lost." 
 
 " But, since no white man can own property in Hayti, it 
 can really be of no benefit to us. " 
 
 " Except to serve our special purpose ; and to give me 
 the opportunity to indulge in a little vanity, since I have 
 had eyes where every one else has been blind." 
 
 " But, after all, what could ignorant negroes know " 
 
 " Bah ! who talks of ignorant negroes ? Where were 
 the eyes of the buccaneers, who were keen enough for gold 
 when they found it in other forms ? Where were the eyes 
 of the French colonists of your own Breton ancestor, 
 Monsieur Henri ? As for the Spaniards, they were sent 
 by the natives into the mountains eastward of this, so they
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 173 
 
 were not to blame. But I know now what I have always 
 suspected that the gold crown which the cacique wore 
 who received Columbus so kindly when he was shipwrecked 
 at the Cape, came from a spot nearer home than that 
 shrewd gentleman cared to admit." 
 
 " Do you think it came from this spot ?" 
 
 " From this identical vein ? Possibly not. But where 
 there is one gold vein there are others. Gilbert, bring the 
 pick and knock off as much of this ore as possible. I wish 
 now that I had brought George along, but it was necessary 
 to leave some one with the horses." 
 
 " You might have left me," said the boy. " I am not 
 of much use here." 
 
 " We'll make you of use in a moment. You shall fill 
 the sacks." 
 
 But before filling the sacks it was necessary to have the 
 wherewithal to fill them ; and, since this was lacking until 
 the pick now sending through the forest the sharp and 
 unaccustomed click of metal ringing upon rock had done 
 its work, the boy sat down and watched with a strange 
 sense of unreality the scene before him. 
 
 Was it a dream from which he should presently wake, or 
 was he really here, on this high mountain-side of His- 
 paniola, the vast tropical forest stretching below like a 
 green sea, and all around the silent majesty of untrodden 
 heights ; while two men, whom three weeks before he had 
 never seen, were digging at his feet for the gold which had 
 remained undiscovered by Spaniard, Frenchman, or Afri- 
 can, though known, beyond doubt, to the original possess- 
 ors of the island ? If a dream, it was certainly a fantastic 
 one, and what would be its end ? He looked at Atherton. 
 What strange chance or fate was it which had brought 
 across his path this man, who seemed so quiet, yet was in
 
 174 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 fact so dominating, as his whole conduct of this matter 
 proved ? The situation seemed too unreal to be anything 
 but a dream ; and yet 
 
 " Now, Henri" it was Atherton's voice breaking on his 
 reverie ' ' here is your work. Come and fill the sacks with 
 this ore." 
 
 "Beg pardon, Mr. Atherton !" Gilbert stood up, ex- 
 hausted from his prolonged and unaccustomed labor 
 " but how much of this rock do you want knocked off?" 
 
 Atherton measured with his eye the pile collected. " Al- 
 most as much again, I suppose," he said. " Why do you 
 ask ? Are you done up ?" 
 
 " Pretty much, sir not being used to this sort of work." 
 
 " It is rather hard to be turned from a valet into a miner 
 at a moment's notice," said Atherton good-humoredly. 
 "But your recommendation to me has always been that 
 you were not an ordinary valet. You've roughed it with 
 me before this. " 
 
 " Very true, sir ; but not quite in the line of the present 
 work. As soon as I've rested a bit, though, I'll be ready 
 to go on." 
 
 " I don't think," continued Atherton reflectively, look- 
 ing from the man to the considerable pile of ore accumu- 
 lated so soon because the surface rock was decomposed and 
 therefore easily broken " that you'll be able to carry much 
 more than that amount down the gorge. You had, there- 
 fore, better fill one sack and take it down ; remain with 
 the horses, and send the guide up to fill and take down the 
 other." 
 
 The prospect of being relieved from miner's duty was 
 plainly very agreeable to Gilbert. He obeyed with alacrity, 
 filled the sack, threw it over his shoulder, and, staggering 
 somewhat under its weight, disappeared in the thick under-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 175 
 
 growth as he made his way down the hillside. They heard 
 for some time the sound of his descent, marked by the 
 sharp crack of breaking boughs ; then silence settled again 
 over the wide, wild solitude of gorge and mountains. 
 
 " It will be some time before he gets down to the trail 
 and the other fellow gets up here," said Atherton, as if 
 struck with a sudden thought. " I'll employ the time in 
 following this vein along the mountain, for it must have 
 outcroppings. It would be very interesting if I should dis- 
 cover some trace of ancient work. Are you sufficiently 
 rested to come with me ?" he asked his companion. 
 
 " Certainly," was the quick reply. " Do you think I 
 ftm so lacking in strength that a mere climb could knock 
 me out, except for a few minutes ?" 
 
 " Well, I have seen more apparent Samsons," remarked 
 Atherton with a smile; "although no doubt you make 
 up in pluck and endurance what you lack in muscular 
 strength. Come along, then. But put that flask lying 
 there on the bank in your pocket : you may need it again. " 
 
 " That is not at all likely," ignoring with a somewhat 
 lofty air the flask, which Gilbert had neglected to replace 
 in his own pocket. 
 
 " Then / shall take it ; for I am not at all ashamed to 
 say that it is within the limit of possibility that I might 
 need it myself. Anybody is likely to be knocked out by 
 a steep and difficult climb." 
 
 De Marsillac made no rejoinder, but followed the speak- 
 er as he struck off from the stream in a slanting direction 
 up the mountain ; explaining as he did so that this would 
 likely be the course of the vein. 
 
 The result justified his anticipation ; for now again he 
 discovered outcroppings which would have been hidden 
 from eyes less keen than his own. The climb was very
 
 17G THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 steep, the growth not quite so dense as along the stream, 
 but quite sufficiently so to make passage through it exceed- 
 ingly fatiguing. Very little interested in tracing the 
 course of a vein, however rich in precious metal, which 
 could be of no possible advantage to any human creature in 
 whom he felt the least concern, the boy beguiled the ascent 
 by admiration of the marvellous wealth of verdure around 
 them. Beautiful tree-ferns loveliest of all tropical prod- 
 ucts, except the royal palm met the eye on all sides ; to- 
 gether with such effects of leaf and vine and flower, and 
 such variety of orchids, as might have driven a botanist 
 wild. But presently he observed a new and singular effect 
 delicate, fairy-like wreaths of mist creeping among the 
 trees and enhancing the beauty of the scene. So exquisite 
 were these trailing, lace-like veils that it was not until they 
 suddenly thickened that he awakened to a sense of what 
 they were, and called to Atherton, who, some distance in 
 advance, had eyes only for his mineral search : 
 
 ' ' A cloud is settling over us. Had we not better re- 
 turn ?" 
 
 " A cloud !" repeated Atherton, starting up from his 
 examination and glancing around. " By Jove, yes ! one of 
 those you admired so much from the citadel, perhaps. It 
 seems very light a mere vapor ; but we must retrace our 
 steps at once, lest it should grow more dense and make re- 
 turn difficult." 
 
 They turned ; but nobody who has ever watched the 
 rapidity with which a cloud gathers about a mountain-top, 
 or who has ever had the misfortune to be caught in one, 
 will be surprised to learn that in five minutes they were 
 standing still, wrapped in thick white mist, and unable to 
 tell in what direction their path lay. 
 
 " Here is a nuisance !" said Atherton. " But no doubt
 
 THE MAST OF THE FAMILY. 177 
 
 the cloud will lift shortly, so that we can get our bearings. 
 It is better to wait, although I am pretty certain our way 
 is in this direction." 
 
 " I am certain of nothing," answered the boy, " except 
 that it is down-hill." 
 
 They waited for what seemed to them an interminable 
 time, but was in reality not more than ten or fifteen min- 
 utes, when, the increasing density of the cloud proving 
 that it had settled to remain, Atherton decided to proceed. 
 
 " Get lost ?" he observed, in reply to a suggestion of his 
 companion. "There is no danger of that. Even if we 
 don't keep exactly the right direction for the place we left, 
 a down-hill course will take us out of the cloud, and then 
 we can get our bearings. Waiting here is mere waste of 
 time." 
 
 He started off with energy. But a tropical forest and 
 an enwrapping cloud are likely to exercise a restraining in- 
 fluence upon the greatest energy. To break through dense 
 undergrowth when able to perceive surroundings, and know 
 in some degree at least what direction is being followed, is 
 a rather confusing process ; but when a white mist shrouds 
 every object at more than a yard's distance from sight, it 
 becomes more bewildering than can be expressed. Ather- 
 ton very soon relinquished all idea of anything except pre- 
 serving such a downward course as would soonest take 
 them out of the cloud ; but, mindful of the dangers of un- 
 seen precipices and hidden pitfalls, he found it necessary to 
 proceed with caution which meant with a slowness really 
 exasperating, in view of the fact that the day was far ad- 
 vanced towards sunset. That the quick night of the tropics 
 should descend upon them before they reached the spot 
 from which they had wandered was, he knew, their only 
 danger ; and, blaming himself silently but severely for
 
 178 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ing been led away by the interest of his find, he crashed on 
 through the thick vegetation, obliged constantly to pause 
 and turn aside from some more than usually impenetrable 
 mass of giant parasites, until all sense of even general 
 direction altogether lost they at last emerged from the 
 enshrouding mist, to find themselves on the mountain-side, 
 with a vast world of verdure spreading around them, and 
 not a sign or token to tell in what direction lay the gorge 
 which they had ascended. 
 
 De Marsillac looked at Atherton. " Have you any idea 
 where we are ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes !" was the reply with well-assumed confidence. 
 " I have a very clear idea that we are on the side of the 
 mountain where we have been all the time, and that our 
 course to reach the stream which will guide us out of this 
 wilderness is northwest." 
 
 " And which direction is northwest ?" 
 
 A simple question a question most easily answered by 
 the aid of a compass or of the sun but terribly hard to 
 answer when lacking both in a strange country. Atherton 
 looked around, and, experienced woodsman as he was, his 
 heart sank. Shut in as they were by forest, with the sun 
 sunk out of sight behind the mountains, and twilight 
 such short-lived twilight ! already falling, what hope had 
 he of telling what was north, south, east, or west ? 
 
 " I am afraid," he replied after a moment, " that I have 
 somewhat lost my orientation, as the French say. But we 
 may be very near our place it is hard to tell in such thick 
 woods so I'll try what a shout or two will do. If the 
 guide has come up and is anywhere within sound of my 
 voice, he'll answer." 
 
 He shouted ; and it is safe to say that if the doctors who 
 were accountable for his presence here had heard him, they
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 179 
 
 would not have thought there was much the matter with 
 his lungs. Shout after shout he uttered, making the forest 
 ring, waking echoes from the hillsides, and rousing many 
 strange birds to answer with shrill cries. But no human 
 voice replied. Pausing, he and De Marsillac strained their 
 ears to listen ; but after the mocking echoes ceased, silence 
 fell as before. Then the two looked again at each other 
 and Atherton smiled. 
 
 " Plainly, that rascal has not come up yet," he said. 
 " Well, it is impossible that we can remain here until night 
 falls, waiting for him to arrive and answer us. Failing 
 anything else, I must follow my own judgment of what our 
 course should be. We will go this way." 
 
 And, followed by the boy, he started off. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AN hour later, with night fallen upon them, in the deep 
 heart of a forest so dense that they were in almost absolute 
 darkness, worn out with stumbling over invisible vines and 
 laboriously breaking a way through obstructing under- 
 growth, the two wanderers paused, to look their situation, 
 if they could not look each other, in the face. 
 
 " We are lost !" said Atherton. It was the first time he 
 had acknowledged the fact, which had been abundantly 
 clear for some time. " I am ashamed of myself as a woods- 
 man ; but when we came out of that infernal cloud, I must 
 have turned in exactly the wrong direction, so that there 
 is no means of telling where we are now." 
 
 " What can we do ?" asked De Marsillac. He had kept 
 up bravely, following the guidance of Atherton in their 
 laborious tramp through the wilderness in which they were
 
 180 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 plunged , but it was now evident from his voice that he 
 was quite overcome with weariness. 
 
 " I am afraid there is nothing we can do except spend 
 the night in the woods," Atherton answered- "And if 
 we can find an open space, we had better remain quiet. 
 As soon as the sun rises I shall know in what direction 
 to strike out. But now we know nothing of our where- 
 abouts, and are surrounded by hidden perils which make 
 movement very unsafe. ' ' 
 
 " Then," suggested the boy, "had we not better stay 
 where we are than wander farther, looking for an open 
 space which is difficult to find ?" 
 
 " No ; because later in the night there is a moon, and 
 when it rises I should like to be able to see something of 
 our surroundings. Here we can see nothing. If we could 
 manage to climb a little higher but I can tell from your 
 voice that you are used up." 
 
 " Oh, no !" was the prompt reply, while into the voice 
 rushed the rallied energy of will. ' ' If you think it best, I 
 am ready to go on." 
 
 " Be sure, then, to follow me closely and cautiously ; 
 for a fall over some precipice would form a tragical termi 
 nation to our adventure." 
 
 Onward then again, and this time also upward, increas- 
 ing thereby the strain on heart and lungs. Atherton, ac- 
 customed to mountaineering and always a hardy climber, 
 had very little idea how painfully his companion, with lips 
 parted to breathe but never to complain, was laboring be- 
 hind him. Now and again they paused ; but, finding the 
 thick growth still all round them, Atherton again pushed 
 on, sure only of one thing that he was mounting up- 
 ward. " And if I can only reach the crest of the ridge," 
 he thought, " I must find clearer space."
 
 THE MAST OF THE FAMILY. 181 
 
 So on, still on, breaking through boughs which swept 
 their faces ; plunging waist-deep into beds of fern or broad- 
 leaved plants ; slipping across wet moss ; falling over en- 
 tangling vines ; and all the time unable to tell into what 
 hidden pitfall the darkness might betray them. 
 
 Happily, in their wandering they had left behind the 
 cloud which was the source of their trouble, and were now 
 upon a different and somewhat lower portion of the ridge. 
 At least Atherton judged that it must be lower a gap be- 
 tween loftier heights when, to his great relief, they pres- 
 ently emerged into a comparatively open space, which was 
 evidently the summit ; for he at once perceived that he 
 overlooked another world of dim, mountain forms towering 
 against the sky, and deep valleys and gorges. 
 
 " We are on the top of the divide," he said ; " and can 
 use our eyes again which is something to be thankful for. 
 This starlight seems quite brilliant after the darkness we 
 have been groping our way through ; does it not ?" 
 
 But his companion was once more without power to reply. 
 He sat down and made no effort to do more than recover 
 his breath, of which a last bit of very steep climbing had 
 almost entirely deprived him. 
 
 " My poor boy, you are completely exhausted !" ex- 
 claimed Atherton " Here ! take a good pull at this 
 flask. It has been very trying work, especially the last 
 climb. Now we will take things easy for a while. After 
 all" throwing himself upon the ground " it is a good 
 thing to be so tired that one is indifferent to everything 
 except the mere privilege of resting. ' ' 
 
 " Resting is a good thing.'' said the other, who was sit- 
 ting with his back and head reclined against the trunk of 
 a palm ; " but I can't agree that it is good to be tired 
 so unspeakably tired ! If we had had another hundred
 
 182 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 yards to climb, I fear I should have dropped in my 
 tracks." 
 
 " Why didn't you say so and call a halt ? There is no 
 wisdom in trying to force one's self to exertion beyond a 
 certain point, and no disgrace in acknowledging fatigue." 
 
 " If one has not very much .strength, one must make up 
 for it with pluck, " said the boy. " Did you not say so 
 yourself ? And there are few things one cannot force one's 
 self to do if one tries. I have always believed that. Weak- 
 ness is often only another name for giving way." 
 
 " I am prepared to testify that it is not an infirmity of 
 yours," observed Atherton. " There are not many men 
 of double your physical strength who would have followed 
 me without protest or complaint as you have during the 
 last two or three hours." 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Praise honest praise 
 is sweet to every child of man ; and possibly those few 
 words, simply and sincerely spoken, repaid the listener for 
 all he had endured. But he did not answer them only 
 after a moment said : 
 
 " I think my predominant thought as I toiled up the hill 
 was what a fool I had been ever to wish for adventures and 
 fancy I should enjoy them. If this is a specimen adven- 
 ture, I shall be satisfied hereafter to walk in commonplace 
 paths. ' ' 
 
 " You think so now ; but if you have the real love of 
 adventure, you will feel differently when you are once 
 housed and fed. Adventures are often more enjoyed in 
 retrospect than at the time of their occurrence. I grant, 
 however, that one must have a strong physique to enjoy 
 them thoroughly." 
 
 " Acd yet you ' 
 
 '' Have not a strong physique, you would say ? I be-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 183 
 
 lieve that is a mistake. Did I climb this mountain like a 
 man who has anything the matter with him ?" 
 
 " You certainly did not. But are you not afraid of the 
 exposure, if we must spend the night here ?" 
 
 " I am afraid of nothing for myself. For you, how- 
 ever, I am exceedingly concerned. Such exposure is new 
 to you, though not to me ; and if there were any possible 
 means of finding or making a shelter " 
 
 " But you know there is none. And why should I suf- 
 fer more than you ? I am young, I am healthy ; and if 
 the air on this summit is a little chilly, how fresh it is, and 
 what delightful odors come to us from the forests and 
 gorges below !" 
 
 It is indeed impossible to conceive anything more deli- 
 cious than the sylvan fragrance which night draws forth 
 from these tropical forests, the wild, sweet freshness of 
 growing things, which is carried by the land-breeze far out 
 to sea, to suggest to the voyagers on some passing ship 
 strangely mingled with the musical wash of waves against 
 the vessel's side pictures of great, serrated, forest- clad, 
 cloud-swept heights ; and of deep green gorges, through 
 which clear streams flow between banks where vegetation 
 runs riot in unspeakable luxuriance, and the air is heavy 
 with countless aromatic odors of blossom and leaf. 
 
 " They are delightful," Atherton agreed ; " but I should 
 appreciate an odor of food much more just now. Heavens, 
 how hungry I am, now that I have time to think of it !" 
 
 The boy sighed : nature with him, too, clamored for sup- 
 port. "It is best not to think of what we can't possibly 
 get," he remarked practically. " We will have to tighten 
 our belts like Indians. And you can smoke. That is said 
 to deaden the pangs of hunger." 
 
 " And what will you do ?"
 
 184 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Oh, I will inhale some of your smoke ; or, better yet, 
 I will sleep ! I am very tired \ and, you know, ' qui dort 
 dine.'" 
 
 " I wish I did know it ; for, in that case, I should soon 
 be sleeping myself. But as it is, I will light a cigar and 
 wait for the moon. She ought to appear very soon now." 
 
 " I fear it is not so late as you think ; for the hour of 
 her rising is quite late. And when she comes, what can 
 she show us more than we see now mountains and track- 
 less forests?" 
 
 ' ' Well, that remains to be seen. At all events, she is 
 our only hope, until the sun appears." 
 
 Then for a time there was little more conversation. The 
 boy, with his head leaning against the trunk of a royal 
 palm, fell asleep, completely worn out by the exertions of 
 the day. Atherton sat, silently smoking, and anathematiz- 
 ing the folly which had placed them in this exceedingly 
 uncomfortable if not dangerous situation, while an hour or 
 two wore away. It must have been at least ten o'clock be- 
 fore the moon, with a considerable slice taken from her 
 waning disk, rose over the eastern mountains and flooded 
 the whole wide scene with silver radiance. Nothing more 
 wildly beautiful could be imagined. But Atherton was 
 hardly in a mood to appreciate the magnificence of the pic- 
 ture, as his glance swept in every direction, eagerly seeking 
 some clue to guide them out of the wilderness which sur- 
 rounded them, and sought in vain. On every side towered 
 great mountains, their mighty flanks clothed with impene- 
 trable forests ; the moonlight falling upon their furrowed 
 sides, but failing to pierce the deep canons at their base ; 
 and all wrapped as with a mantle in the majestic calm, the 
 inexpressible solitude only to be seen and felt in remote, 
 untrodden wilds.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 185 
 
 Over the prospect, on the side of the ridge from which 
 he had ascended, Atherton gazed in despair, and then turned 
 his observation to the country on the other side. This in 
 its general features was much the same, only he perceived 
 that immediately below them instead of a ravine there was 
 a valley one of those spaces, fruitful and well-watered, 
 which abound even in the recesses of the great heights. 
 Hope suggested to him that there might be a village, or at 
 least a hamlet, here ; for he remembered the trail branch- 
 ing off from the road to La Ferriere, which they had fol- 
 lowed, and which the guide had said led, no doubt, to some 
 village among the hills. Might not the village be here 
 below them ? And if so, what would be easier than to ob- 
 tain a guide there ; or, even without one, to follow the trail 
 until it led them back to where they had left their horses ? 
 The moon had not yet risen high enough to illumine the 
 valley, which, being on the western side of the ridge, was 
 in deep shadow ; but Atherton strained his vision in the 
 attempt to pierce the obscurity sufficiently to tell if there 
 were any signs of human habitation within its borders. 
 
 The cabins of these villages are, however, so insignifi- 
 cant and nestle so closely under the spreading shade of 
 mango, banana, and palm trees, by which they are always 
 surrounded, that to distinguish them at any distance even 
 in daytime is difficult. It was not strange, therefore, that 
 he failed to discern any such sign as he sought ; and he 
 had resigned himself to waiting for the advent of day, 
 when suddenly he perceived the most unmistakable of all 
 the tokens by which man indicates his presence a light. 
 
 There could be no doubt of it. A mere point in the dis- 
 tance, it still shone with a steady glow out of the obscurity 
 which clothed the valley ; such a light as streams from the 
 habitation of man alone, and spoke eloquently to the weary
 
 18G THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 wanderers of the possibility of obtaining the food, shelter, 
 and guidance they needed. 
 
 Atherton did not hesitate a moment after the friendly 
 gleam had met his eye ; but walked over to where his com- 
 panion still slumbered, and, laying a hand on the lad's 
 shoulder, shook him. 
 
 " What is it ?" asked the latter, opening his eyes quick- 
 ly, for the slumber cannot be very profound that is taken 
 in a sitting posture, with no softer pillow than the trunk 
 of a palm. 
 
 " A light !" replied Atherton. " A beacon to guide us 
 out of this wretched situation. Evidently there is some 
 inhabitant, or perhaps a village, in the valley below us, and 
 we are going there at once." 
 
 " Are we ?" said the boy, rising to his feet. " It seems 
 to me we would do better to remain here until morning. 
 I dread plunging into the deep woods again. " 
 
 " Nonsense !" answered Atherton vigorously. " Think 
 of obtaining something to eat, not to speak of a better 
 place to rest than this mountain-top !" 
 
 " But the woods ! Think how dark they are and how 
 tangled ; and how certain we shall be to lose our direction 
 as soon as we are in them again." 
 
 " We shall not lose our direction. I have the points of 
 the compass clearly in my mind now." 
 
 " Eh bien," said the boy, shrugging his shoulders in his 
 French fashion; "lead on. But I am certain you will 
 wish yourself back before you have gone very far." 
 
 " And I am certain I shall not, whatever you may do," 
 Atherton answered, as he again took the lead, and set off 
 at a brisk pace down the mountain-side. 
 
 Facilis descensus held good here as elsewhere. They 
 had less fatigue than in ascending, and went down at a
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 187 
 
 more rapid rate ; but hardly with less difficulty, as far as 
 breaking their way through the undergrowth was con- 
 cerned. Into these dense shades sunlight can scarcely 
 penetrate ; and the moon's pale rays, even had they not 
 been on the shaded side of the mountain, would have had 
 little power to pierce the thick canopy of foliage under 
 which they plunged. Guiding himself, therefore, more by 
 touch than by sight, Atherton crashed along, sending back 
 now and then a brief warning or direction to the boy fol- 
 lowing him ; trusting that he was keeping his general 
 direction, but certain of nothing in these bewildering 
 shades. It was breathless work ; but after an hour they 
 found themselves on level ground, and emerged into a val- 
 ley encircled by giant heights, and looking an ideal abode 
 of peace and Arcadian happiness, as its cluster of palm- 
 thatched huts lay under the broad shadow of fruit groves 
 by the side of a clear, babbling stream. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 4 'Now/' observed Atherton, as they paused in momen- 
 tary admiration of this smiling spot, " are we not more 
 than repaid for the labor that it has cost us to reach here ?" 
 
 " Before answering that," said his companion, " we will 
 see what kind of reception we meet. You know what Mr. 
 Hoffman told us of the dislike and suspicion with which 
 white people are regarded in these places." 
 
 " Oh, a fig for dislike and suspicion, if they give us food 
 and shelter !" Atherton returned. " "We will select the 
 principal house for our application, and I have no fear of 
 the result. Come ! only a few steps farther, and our 
 labors for the night are over."
 
 188 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Following a path along the margin of the stream, they 
 approached the shade-embowered hamlet, which still seemed 
 wrapped in deep repose until they were within a very short 
 distance of it. Then suddenly on the still night air there 
 rose the sound of singing a weird, monotonous chanting 
 of many voices, that evidently issued from a building which 
 they were immediately approaching : a long, low, palm- 
 thatched edifice of wood. 
 
 Atherton paused. Something in the character of the 
 sound recalled to his memory all that he had heard of Vau- 
 doux meetings how they are held at dead of night, gener- 
 ally in remote spots where no eye of the uninitiated can 
 behold them, and where any stranger who should present 
 himself would run the utmost risk. What could this 
 strange singing indicate but some such gathering ? And 
 if so, it behooved them to be cautious. He looked at his 
 companion, who had paused also. 
 
 "I think," he said, "that it will be well to ascer- 
 tain what this means before we allow our presence to be 
 known." 
 
 " If we were at home," replied the boy, " I should know 
 very well what it means. I should say that it was a negro 
 religious meeting, and that they would soon begin to 
 shout." 
 
 " But since we are in Hayti," said Atherton, " there is 
 danger that it may be a religious meeting of another kind. 
 It may be one of the Vaudoux gatherings, of which we 
 heard such terrible stories at the Cape." 
 
 " I don't believe those stories," answered the other. 
 " A form of Vaudoux exists among the negroes in Louisiana, 
 and therefore I know it is absurd to talk of it as a regular 
 worship with priests and sacrifices. It is simply a survival 
 of African sorcery, practised by some negroes on others
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 189 
 
 more ignorant than themselves, and connected more or less 
 with a horrible African dance." 
 
 " You forget that Louisiana is as different from Hayti 
 as from the interior of Africa," said Atherton. " But, 
 whether matters have been exaggerated or not, we must 
 know what this is before going farther ; for should it prove 
 to be what I suspect, our danger would be extreme. Let 
 us get into the shade." 
 
 As he spoke he stepped out of the bright moonlight 
 which lay upon the path -into the deep shade of a thicket 
 of mimosas, which, with other luxuriant growths, extend- 
 ed up to the building from which the singing proceeded. 
 Safe from observation here, and moving with extreme quiet- 
 ness, they approached the house in the rear ; and found it 
 so rudely and carelessly built that they were able to see 
 clearly all that was taking place within by looking through 
 the chinks of the wall, while keeping carefully in the shel- 
 ter of some large, broad-leaved plants which grew immedi- 
 ately against it. 
 
 What they beheld was a scene so weird and so entirely a 
 verification of all they had heard and read that they could 
 not doubt they were indeed looking upon a meeting of 
 Vaudoux worshippers ; and even their pressing bodily 
 wants were for a time forgotten in the interest it awak- 
 ened. For wild and terrible are the stories told in Hayti 
 of this fearful idolatry, which, introduced in the days of the 
 French Colony by slaves from the west coast of Africa, and 
 practised secretly then, is now so widely diffused that it is 
 impossible to say what order of Haytian life is free from its 
 degrading superstition. It is at least certain that, although 
 nominally forbidden by law, the sect is so powerful in num- 
 bers and influence that few officials are brave enough to 
 incur its enmity ; and that especially in country districts
 
 190 THE SLOT OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 it flourishes almost unchecked, even when it takes its most 
 awful form of human sacrifices and cannibalism. It was 
 owing no doubt to the remoteness of this spot, upon which 
 the two wanderers had stumbled, that the temple into 
 which they looked stood within the borders of a hamlet in- 
 stead of being as usual buried in the forest ; and that there 
 seemed no pretence of secrecy in the celebration of the dark 
 rites now going on within. 
 
 At the end of the long apartment, which was all that the 
 building contained, there stood a kind of altar, beside 
 which, on chairs draped with red cloth and elevated on a 
 throne-like platform, sat a man and woman evidently the 
 priest and priestess. Both were pure negroes, of the ordi- 
 nary Haytian type ; and both were dressed in long gowns 
 girded by red sashes. The man wore also a red handker- 
 chief bound around his forehead, above which stood erect 
 the peculiarly knotted hair that marks the Papaloi, or 
 Vaudoux priest. A throng of men and women filled the 
 room, all of whom were singing the monotonous, barbaric 
 chant which had first attracted the attention of the look- 
 ers-on ; and all were moving their bodies in slow, swaying 
 motion ; while every eye was fastened on the altar, upon 
 which stood a box containing the serpent which was the 
 object of their idolatry. 
 
 De Marsillac shuddered. ' ' This is horrible !' ' he whisper- 
 ed. " All that we have heard must be true. Let us go away." 
 
 "Not yet," Atherton replied. "Think what an un- 
 looked-for chance to witness one of these meetings ! Men 
 have risked their lives by going in disguise to see what we 
 see now without any risk at all. Of course we must pres- 
 ently go back to the forest ; for we cannot show ourselves 
 until daylight after this. But we will not go until we have 
 seen whatever "
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 191 
 
 He paused abruptly in his speech ; for the chant sudden- 
 ly ceased and silence fel 1 a profound, complete silence, 
 which lasted for several minutes. Then, rising to his feet, 
 the Papaloi began to speak at first in low, rapid tones ; 
 then louder, with increasing excitement, until at last he 
 fairly shrieked his utterances. To Atherton these were 
 mostly unintelligible, from the patois in which they were 
 spoken ; but the young Louisianian comprehended enough 
 to be aware that the speaker was extolling the worship of 
 the serpent in which they were all engaged ; that he urged 
 his followers to be faithful to this adoration, and to obey 
 implicitly the commands of Vaudoux ; promising them 
 freely temporal and also spiritual rewards. The degree to 
 which he had wrought upon the emotions of his listeners 
 was soon apparent from the cries that broke from them, 
 and in the increased motion of their bodies a nervous 
 shaking, apparently beyond control, that passed like a wave 
 over them. Some prostrated themselves before the altar, 
 others with lifted hands uttered petitions ; when, perceiv- 
 ing that he had raised their excitement to the proper 
 pitch, the speaker suddenly broke again into the chant, 
 now wilder, higher in key, more barbaric in its strange 
 rhythm than before ; while added to it was an accompani- 
 ment that seemed to transport the assemblage to frenzy 
 the peculiar sound of the Congo drum. 
 
 The scene which followed soon became indescribable. 
 Still singing, the people began to dance, shaking violently 
 with the nervous trembling already mentioned ; some of 
 them hissing and wriggling like snakes, and all filled with 
 what seemed a veritable diabolic possession. Louder grew 
 the chanting, more frenzied the movements of the dancers 
 some in their fury tearing off portions of their clothing 
 while above all sounded the note of the drum : a strange,
 
 192 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 wild echo from the deep African forests whence this infer- 
 nal worship came. As the red light of the smoking torches, 
 which alone illuminated the room, fell over the scene, it 
 was hard to believe that these savage creatures, dancing 
 their horrible dance with demoniacal energy, had ever left 
 those dark forests, or been brought into the faintest con- 
 tact with any form of civilization. 
 
 " It is too dreadful to witness," said De Marsillac, avert- 
 ing his face with a gasp of horror. " Oh, let us go away !" 
 
 But Atherton's hand fell on his arm with a detaining 
 grasp. 
 
 " Wait !" he answered. " We will go after a moment, 
 but I must see the end of this. What can be to come next ?' ' 
 
 He was soon answered. The drum ceased, and, as if 
 under the influence of a spell, instantly the whole frantic 
 assemblage became quiet and silent again. But now the 
 silence had in it a sinister, menacing quality of expectation 
 such expectation as that of the tiger when, crouching 
 motionless but quivering in the jungle, he waits the com- 
 ing of his victim. Like so many human tigers these men 
 and women now waited, their glistening eyes fastened on 
 the altar. Plainly, something terrible was about to take 
 place. Atherton felt himself growing cold with undefina- 
 ble horror. 
 
 Presently the Papaloi arose, made an obeisance to the 
 serpent, and, passing behind the altar, drew forth from 
 beneath something which he brought forward and laid be- 
 fore it. 
 
 " My God !" said Atherton in a sharp whisper to his 
 companion. " They have brought out a child !" 
 
 " A child ! Impossible !" exclaimed the other, turning 
 to look once more through the aperture from which he had 
 averted his face.
 
 THE MAST OF THE FAMILY. 193 
 
 It was a child undoubtedly a female child of six or 
 seven years, bound hand and foot that lay before the 
 altar. A stir of horrible eagerness passed over the assem- 
 blage, but the silence still remained unbroken while a stal- 
 wart young negro detached himself from the throng, and, 
 approaching the throne, knelt before the priestess, or 
 Mamamloi. What he said was not audible to the concealed 
 and now horror-stricken observers (it was, in fact, a request 
 that they might offer the sacrifice of the " goat without 
 horns") ; but her gracious assent was evident, and imme- 
 diately two other negroes came forward and lifted the child 
 to her feet. 
 
 " They are going to murder her !" cried De Marsillac, 
 seizing Atherton's arm. " Oh, for God's sake, let us do 
 something before it is too late !" 
 
 " What can we do ?" asked the other. " We ourselves 
 would be murdered if our presence was discovered ; for" 
 he swore a great oath, which was surely not recorded 
 against him " the infernal devils are indeed about to offer 
 a human sacrifice !" 
 
 At this moment the Papaloi, knife in hand, again ad- 
 vanced to the child, who until nov* had seemed half-stupe- 
 fied, but who, catching the deadly gleam of the blade, 
 began to scream. 
 
 That scream was echoed by another cry as the Papaloi 
 drew his knife across the victim's throat a cry which made 
 the whole assemblage start and look around, seeking the 
 person from whom it had proceeded. A breathless minute 
 passed in this scrutiny, then some one shouted, " Outside ! 
 search outside !" and a dozen men rushed from the 
 building. 
 
 Meanwhile when De Marsillac, with that involuntary cry 
 of overmastering horror, dropped fainting at his feet,
 
 194 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Atherton had known that there was not a second to lose if 
 their lives were to be saved. One quick motion of his hand 
 to his pocket gave him the assurance that his revolver was 
 there ; then, picking up the insensible boy, he retreated as 
 rapidly as his burdened condition would allow through the 
 bushes which had sheltered them, and spent the minute 
 which meant their salvation in putting all the distance 
 possible between himself and the temple ; so that by the 
 time the searchers had rushed out and were beating the 
 bushes where he and his companion had been standing, he 
 was a hundred yards away. He was aware, however, that 
 their fate was sealed unless he could find some place of im- 
 mediate concealment. To gain the forest, burdened as he 
 was, before he could be overtaken was impossible ; so, with 
 senses quickened by the awful nearness of the danger, he 
 looked around, seeking some refuge, as men only seek that 
 on which life and death depend. 
 
 But where was refuge to be found in this haunt of mur- 
 derers ? His eager gaze swept the scene around him, while 
 the voices of the searchers seemed to his excited fancy to 
 be drawing every instant nearer ; but he perceived no shel- 
 ter which could serve any purpose of concealment. Filled 
 with a sense of despair, he was about to place the boy upon 
 the ground, and, standing over him, kill as many of the 
 wretches seeking them as possible before the inevitable end 
 an end which gained new horror from the thought of 
 what would follow death should come, when suddenly he 
 thought of the stream. As they approached the hamlet he 
 had observed that its banks, especially in one place, were 
 washed out, forming cavities on each side. Here was a 
 hiding-place which might pass unnoticed save in case of a 
 prolonged and careful search such search as would not be 
 likely to be made, since the wretches would hardly suppose
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 195 
 
 that strangers could have wandered into this remote spot. 
 It was an instant's work to gain the bank of the stream, 
 break through the bushes fringing it, and let himself and 
 his still insensible companion down over the crumbling edge. 
 
 Underneath he found, as he thought would be the case, 
 a perfect place of concealment. During past flood-times, 
 when swollen to a raging torrent, the stream had chiselled 
 out these hollow spaces, from the projecting surfaces of 
 which a green curtain of bushes and vines now drooped. 
 Atherton pushed these aside, and into the cavity behind 
 thrust the body of the boy ; then, crouching beside him, 
 waited, pistol in hand, for what should come. 
 
 What came were many trampling feet upon the path 
 above him, and much talk in a language of which he only 
 now and then caught a word he understood. But the 
 tones of the speakers told him they were of differing opin- 
 ions some for searching farther, some for returning ; and 
 it was also evident that the latter were in the majority. 
 As a matter of fact, these last were of the opinion that the 
 cry had been uttered within rather than without the house, 
 by some novice not yet hardened to the offering of human 
 victims, who was ashamed or afraid to confess it. " For 
 how," they argued, "could a stranger possibly have been 
 present ? Or when had such a thing ever been known as 
 that any one from the outside penetrated here ?" 
 
 Perhaps the others were ready to be convinced, feeling 
 secure of their impunity in crime, and anxious to return to 
 the horrible feast awaiting them. At all events, after a 
 pause and discussion just above the spot where Atherton 
 crouched grimly waiting, they retraced their steps ; their 
 voices gradually died away, and silence reigned again over 
 the wide, beautiful scene, which had so suddenly been 
 transformed into a very gate of hell.
 
 196 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WITH the aid of the water near by, it was not difficult 
 to revive the insensible boy. Atherton dashed it liberally 
 over his face ; and, when he stirred with a reviving gasp, 
 raised the flask to his lips. " Drink !" he said, in a tone 
 of such imperative command that the other obeyed with- 
 out protest or hesitation ; and after a moment was able to 
 withdraw himself from support and sit up alone, though 
 trembling excessively. 
 
 " Did they murder her?" he asked then, in a horror- 
 stricken whisper. " My God, I can still hear her cry !" 
 
 " It seemed unnecessary on your part to echo it, how- 
 ever," replied Atherton. " In consequence, we have had as 
 narrow an escape from death as we are likely ever to have. " 
 
 " Did I cry out so as to be heard ?" asked the other. 
 " I did not know it. And I fainted too ? That is strange. 
 I never fainted before in my life." 
 
 " You never before had such occasion. I don't blame 
 you for fainting ; but it was your cry that brought the 
 whole pack of devils at our heels. ' ' 
 
 " What shameful weakness on my part !" said the boy 
 in an accent of intense contrition. " How did we escape ?" 
 
 " I picked you up and ran for it. There was nothing 
 else to do. If you were not a light-weight I could never 
 have done it." 
 
 " You carried me ! Oh, I can never forgive myself ! 
 What a position to place you in ! You would have been 
 justified in leaving me to my fate. But" with a violent 
 shudder " thank God and thank you that you did not !" 
 
 " I should have made a fight if the worst had come,"
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 197 
 
 said Atherton. " I had seven shots, and I knew I could 
 answer for that many of the miserable wretches. But of 
 course we should have been killed at last and eaten ! 
 That was the most appalling thought." 
 
 The boy drew nearer to him with an involuntary move- 
 ment. 
 
 " Where are we now ?" he whispered. " Are we safe ?" 
 
 " Not yet, but we soon shall be. I am only waiting to 
 give those who pursued us time to return to their devilish 
 worship before we make our way back to the forest." 
 
 Ten minutes passed, which seemed an hour ; and then, 
 bidding his companion remain quiet, Atherton rose. 
 
 " I am going to reconnoitre a little," he said. " On no 
 account stir until I return." 
 
 Leaving the cavity where they crouched, and standing 
 on the edge of the shallow stream, he cautiously parted the 
 bushes growing along the bank and looked over the valley. 
 There was no sign of human presence ; and, after listening 
 intently for some seconds, he sprang to the surface of the 
 bank and disappeared, leaving De Marsillac a prey to the 
 keenest anxiety and fear. 
 
 At another time the boy would have followed, despite 
 the injunction to the contrary which he had received ; but 
 now, acutely conscious of his late ignominious failure in 
 self-control and the consequent peril in which it had placed 
 them, he felt that he owed Atherton, who had saved his 
 life at the risk of his own, the return of implicit obedience 
 as long as this situation of danger lasted. He waited, 
 therefore, for what appeared an interminable length of 
 time, until at last he heard a slight sound above, and the 
 next moment Atherton dropped over the bank again. 
 
 " All clear !" he reported briefly. " I have been as far 
 as the village, and found no one watching. They are all
 
 198 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 at their infernal orgies, and now is our time to escape. 
 We must go at once. ' ' 
 
 " I am ready," replied the boy, rising as he spoke. 
 
 The bank once mounted, he was conscious of an access 
 of vigor from the sight of the hamlet and the thought of 
 the danger lurking there. It was true that a sense of 
 deadly sickness came over him at the recollection of what 
 he had witnessed, and of what was no doubt now going on. 
 But it was a sickness which did not incapacitate, but on 
 the contrary lent such wings to his feet that he was in ad- 
 vance of Atherton when they gained the forest and once 
 more breathed freely, knowing themselves at last safe from 
 pursuit. 
 
 Pausing on the edge of the deep woods into which they 
 were about to plunge, Atherton glanced back over the 
 scene that so short a time before had looked to them an 
 idyllic Arcadia in its peaceful serenity and beauty. 
 
 " At this moment," he said, " there is nothing I would 
 not give to be able to level a field-piece upon that abode of 
 devils and wipe it out of existence. Yet I must turn my 
 back and go away ; knowing that what we have seen to- 
 night will be repeated again and yet again." 
 
 " Is there no possibility of punishing them in anyway ?" 
 asked De Marsillac. " If these atrocities are against the 
 law, can we not inform the authorities of what we have 
 seen ?" 
 
 " And do you think the authorities would act upon any 
 information given by foreigners and white men? You 
 have not grasped the idea yet of what Hayti is." 
 
 " But it seems appalling to do nothing. Think of the 
 unutterable horror of it ! Can you ever forget the cry of 
 that child?" 
 
 " Not soon, I fear. But the scene when I went back
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 199 
 
 don't ask me to speak of that. Ah, how the recollection 
 sickens me !" 
 
 " I would not hear of it for anything !" cried the other 
 hastily. " For God's sake, let us get away far away ! I 
 never before knew how a coward feels ; but now I am afraid 
 horribly afraid." 
 
 " There is now nothing to fear," said Atherton, as they 
 went on. " Not one of those cannibals would leave his 
 awful feast ; and besides they are drinking, and will soon 
 be helplessly intoxicated. What a glorious opportunity to 
 go in and kill the whole of them devil- worshippers and 
 murderers as they are !" 
 
 ' ' I would rather have killed them at the moment of the 
 murder. If I had had a pistol 1 should have shot that 
 Papaloi as he turned with the knife. Nothing could have 
 held my hand I am sure of it. ' ' 
 
 " It would have been a well-merited punishment, and 
 possibly not more dangerous in its results than what you 
 did. But, after all, we have not come to Hayti to consti- 
 tute ourselves avengers of blood. Eemember what lies yet 
 untouched in the garden of Millefleurs. " 
 
 As if struck by a shot, the boy paused, and, turning, 
 faced his companion. They were not yet in a forest so 
 dense but that some stray beams of moonlight filtered 
 through the foliage and showed to each the pale face of the 
 other. 
 
 "What did I say to you yesterday?" he asked in a 
 quick, tense tone. " Did I not say that we might die in- 
 stead of returning there ? You laughed at me then. But 
 how near death we have been to-night ! And how do we 
 know that even yet we are out of danger ?" 
 
 " I think that we are," replied Atherton. " It is rather 
 curious that you should have said that yesterday ; but it
 
 200 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 was only one of those chance shots which events afterwards 
 turn into a prophecy. You certainly can't pretend that 
 you had any premonition that we were to run into such 
 danger as we have been exposed to." 
 
 " No," answered the other, " I had no premonition fur- 
 ther than what I told you, and you called superstition the 
 belief that if I did not then take what I came to seek I 
 would not have another chance to do so. And now" he 
 spoke in a tone of despair " I am sure that I never shall." 
 
 " This is ridiculous folly !" exclaimed Atherton impa- 
 tiently. " I would not have believed that a boy of so much 
 pluck could be guilty of it. What is to prevent your re- 
 turning ? Here we are safe ; and we have only to wait a 
 few hours for daylight to find our way back to our men 
 and horses." 
 
 " You don't know how exhausted I am," said the other, 
 confessing it for the first time. " I shall never be able to 
 get back to the place we left. And we cannot seek help, 
 and you certainly cannot carry me again ; and so " 
 
 " And so we are to perish like the babes in the wood ! 
 A very pretty programme, truly. If the worst came to the 
 worst, I would show you whether or not I could carry you 
 again ; but it isn' t coming to that. We are going to find 
 a place to rest, and sleep if we can ; and to-morrow you 
 will laugh at this nonsense. Come !" 
 
 He took the boy's arm and drew him on. They were 
 still following the stream, and a few minutes later they 
 found themselves in a leafy glade among the hills a spot 
 fit for a fairies' meeting-place, where the ground was free 
 from undergrowth, and the moonbeams fell through the 
 exquisite fronds of tree-ferns, while all the solitude was 
 made musical by the sound of water. 
 
 " Here is a good resting-place," said Athertou. " Sit
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 201 
 
 down on that bed of ferns, put your back against that tree, 
 and now we will address ourselves to a light collation of 
 bananas." 
 
 He began emptying his pockets as he spoke, until a large 
 pile of this nutritious fruit lay before them. 
 
 " There is one great advantage in being lost in the 
 tropics," he said, as he turned down the skin of one : "no- 
 body need starve here. There is no better food than this." 
 
 " When did you get these ?" asked his companion with 
 surprise. 
 
 " When I returned to the village. It was only to lift 
 one's hand and help one's self, and fortunately my pockets 
 are deep. Half a dozen or so of these and a little brandy 
 and water, and you will be ready to go to sleep, and wake 
 to-morrow quite fresh and ready for our tramp over the 
 hills." 
 
 " You must think me contemptibly weak," said the boy 
 after a few minutes' silence, " and, I am afraid, as weak in 
 mind as in body." 
 
 " I think nothing of the kind. But you are completely 
 used up ; besides which, your nerves were terribly shaken 
 by the awful scene we witnessed ; so it is no wonder our 
 situation looks to you much darker than it is." 
 
 " You say my nerves are shaken," said the other, after 
 another brief pause. " 1 suppose they are. The gleam of 
 that knife is before my eyes all the time, and the cry of 
 that child rings unceasingly in my ears. " 
 
 He put his hands before his face, as if to shut out the 
 scene his fancy so vividly painted, at the same time shudder- 
 ing convulsively. 
 
 " What you want is rest," said Atherton kindly ; for he 
 saw that it was a case of shock to the nerves that would not 
 soon pass away. " Try to think of something else. And
 
 202 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 get to sleep as soon as possible. There is nothing like 
 sleep to bring the nerves back to their proper condition." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I shall not sleep. I have no inclination to do so ; and 
 I think it, on the whole, safer to keep watch. I haven't 
 the least apprehension of any danger, but it is well to be 
 on the alert." 
 
 " Then we must keep watch and watch," said the boy 
 earnestly. " "What time is it now ?" 
 
 A ray of moonlight enabled Atherton to answer : ' ' Ten 
 minutes past one." 
 
 " Then I will sleep two hours, and you must wake me, 
 so that I can watch while you sleep. Promise me to do so, 
 or I will not consent to sleep at all." 
 
 " Very well, I promise. Now let us have no more talk. 
 In fact, I am going to stroll about a little while I smoke." 
 
 " You will not go far ?" 
 
 " Certainly not. I shall not lose sight of you. Have no 
 fear." 
 
 The last words, instead of offending the listener as they 
 might have done a little earlier in their adventure, fell 
 upon his ear with a soothing sound. He was for the first 
 time in his life as he had truly said in the strong grasp 
 of fear : that passion, or emotion, of which those who are 
 physically brave know so little, but which is one of the 
 worst sufferings the human soul can be called upon to en- 
 dure. Every fibre of his body, as well as his whole spirit, 
 was sick with the horror of the appalling scene he had wit- 
 nessed. He could not divest himself of the fancy that the 
 forest around was filled with the dark faces of cannibal 
 murderers ; and all the stories he had heard in the Cape 
 from Mr. Hoffman and his friends rose in memory terri- 
 ble stories of human ghouls robbing graves in order to feed
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 203 
 
 upon the dead ; or, worse yet, of those who had been 
 thrown into what was only a simulation of death in order 
 that they might be resuscitated, killed, and devoured ; of 
 the fearful loup-garou the monster whose business is to 
 steal children for these feasts ; of a slain youth found with 
 a cane driven into his heart, through which the blood had 
 been sucked ; of an unhappy woman taken ill on the road, 
 whose husband left her in a wayside house while he rode to 
 the nearest town for medical aid, and who, returning, 
 found that she had been murdered cut into pieces and 
 salted down. 
 
 These blood-curdling tales all resting, though he had 
 not known it at the time, on absolute evidence might 
 rouse only a passing shudder when told on a pleasant 
 veranda with lamplit rooms behind, the security of com- 
 panionship and the near neighborhood of power ; but here, 
 in these deep mountains, so wild, so remote, with the cele- 
 bration of a cannibal feast near at hand, and with the con- 
 sciousness of an escape so narrow from a fate the most 
 awful, it was no wonder that their recollection filled the 
 boy with a thrill of terror altogether new to his experience. 
 So he had asked, like a child, not to be left alone ; and 
 there was comfort in the sight of Atherton's tall form pass- 
 ing and repassing to and fro ; in thinking of the weapon 
 he carried ; in reliance upon his courage and resource 
 already so abundantly tested ; and even in a whiff from his 
 cigar which came now and then, strangely mingled with 
 the aromatic odors of unnumbered plants and flowers. 
 After a while even the gleam of the murderous knife was 
 forgotten, and the heart-piercing cry of helpless childhood ; 
 the young head drooped, and Atherton, when he ap- 
 proached, saw with satisfaction that his companion was 
 sleeping the deep sleep of weariness and exhaustion.
 
 204 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 When next De Marsillac opened his eyes, daylight was 
 all around him ; and the pale man standing over him was 
 saying : 
 
 " Sorry to disturb you, but it is time we were moving." 
 
 " You did not wake me, after all !' ' cried the boy, spring- 
 ing up. " You broke your promise you let me sleep all 
 night!" 
 
 " Yes," was the cool reply ; " because it was better you 
 should sleep at night than that you should break down by 
 day. How do you feel ?" 
 
 ' ' Quite rested. But you have had no sleep at all. How 
 could you act so?" 
 
 " For the very good reason that you needed sleep and I 
 did not or, at least, I could do without it. I am glad you 
 are feeling better. Here are three or four bananas. "When 
 you have breakfasted we will start." 
 
 The other smiled as he took the bananas. 
 
 " One would think we were on a desert island," he said. 
 And then the smile faded, as he looked up with a recollec- 
 tion of horror dawning in his eyes. " Was it a dream ?" 
 he asked. " Did we really see " 
 
 ' ' The Vaudoux worship and the human sacrifice ? Yes. 
 I am sorry to say there was no dreaming about it. But 
 don't think of it now. What we have to do is to get away 
 from here as soon as possible." 
 
 " I am ready : let us go at once. I shall not breathe 
 freely until we have put the mountain between ourselves 
 and that place of abominations." 
 
 " We are not going over the mourtain," replied Ather- 
 ton calmly. " We are going around it, by the trail we 
 partly followed yesterday, and which must lead to the vil- 
 lage we have seen." 
 
 The boy started. " Do you mean to go there ?" he asked.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 205 
 
 " Not to the village immediately. I hope to be able, by 
 skirting around it, to escape observation. But we must 
 find that trail. I cannot risk the danger of further wan- 
 derings in these mountains, when there must be a path 
 leading out of this valley, to find which will mean safety." 
 
 " But if we should be seen ? they will know that we 
 were the spectators of their meeting last night." 
 
 *' Let them know it. Last night we had to fear the rush 
 of a multitude, with their passions already inflamed to the 
 utmost human tigers thirsting for blood. To-day they are 
 scattered, many no doubt yet helplessly drunk ; those who 
 may be sober capable of understanding the argument of 
 this," and he touched significantly the pistol in his pocket. 
 
 De Marsillac turned a shade paler than he had been be- 
 fore, and did not speak for a moment. Then he said 
 slowly : 
 
 " Don't you think it would be better to take the fatigues 
 and dangers of the mountains rather than run the risk of 
 having to use that ? If you killed any of those wretches 
 and even escaped with your life, what would follow in a 
 country where white men are hated and justice unknown !" 
 
 " I shall not kill any one except in self-defence," an- 
 swered Atherton. " Wretches as they are, I have no de- 
 sire to be their executioner ; and it would certainly be un- 
 pleasant to figure in a Haytian court either as murdered or 
 murderer. ' Apr&s tout, ce n'est qu'un Wane de mains,' ' 
 he added with a laugh, recalling the story Mr. Hoffman 
 had told. " But find that road we must. So allons /" 
 
 Retracing their steps of the previous night, they soon 
 reached the margin of the forest ; and saw before them 
 again the Eden-like valley, with its picturesque hamlet 
 clustering amid groves of fruit-trees. In the clear, deli- 
 cate light of early morning for the sun had not yet ap-
 
 206 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 peared over the high crests of the encircling mountains 
 it seemed steeped in an even deeper repose than when be- 
 held by moonlight. No sign of human presence could be 
 perceived about it, and Atherton repeated his opinion that 
 all the inhabitants were sleeping off the effects of their 
 orgy of the night before. 
 
 " And now," he said, looking around with the eye of a 
 veteran mountaineer, " I begin to think that it will not be 
 necessary for us to enter the valley at all, nor even to skirt 
 it for any considerable distance. There is but one natural 
 outlet from it, and that is the gap in the hills on our left. 
 We will make for that, and I am sure we shall there find 
 a trail." 
 
 The gap of which he spoke was on the eastern side of 
 the valley, while they stood on the northeastern ; so that 
 the distance between the two points was not very great, and 
 there was no necessity for leaving the shelter of the woods ; 
 while, to the great relief of De Marsillac, they increased 
 their distance from the village with every step. These 
 steps were also less difficult than if taken higher on the 
 mountain side, where the forest growth was so dense and 
 the riotous parasites so many that progress was a constant 
 struggle. On this lower level walking was easier ; and, 
 since they made all possible haste, they reached the gap 
 within an hour ; and found, as Atherton had anticipated, 
 a well-defined trail leading through it. 
 
 " Thank Heaven for so much !" said Atherton when 
 they had turned their backs on the valley and village. 
 " Now we must pray that we may meet no wayfarers to re- 
 port our presence here. This would make a perfect place 
 of ambush." 
 
 It was not a cheerful suggestion, but of the fact there 
 was no doubt. This narrow pass through the mountains,
 
 THE MA*T OF THE FAMILY. 207 
 
 with its trail running along the side of a steep height, 
 densely wooded above, and with a green chasm below, in 
 which could be heard but not seen the tumbling fall of 
 waters, offered every facility for assassination. No better 
 covert could a murderer desire than the thickets overhang- 
 ing the path ; and no better hiding-place, were hiding- 
 place desired, for the body of his victim than the verdure- 
 filled arroyo below. 
 
 But (he two who now followed the trail had stout hearts. 
 Although they knew not what moment might bring them 
 face to face with some one bound for the village, who 
 would carry there the news of the presence of strange 
 white men, they walked on with cheerfulness and energy ; 
 inspirited by finding themselves on a path instead of wan- 
 dering through the trackless forest ; and yet more inspirit- 
 ed by leaving behind the scene of all the horrors of the 
 night. Now and then Atherton glanced at his companion 
 with mingled wonder and admiration. How slight he 
 looked ! how frail a frame for such work as this for long 
 hours of weary tramping, of exposure, fasting and danger ! 
 Yet what a brave spirit animated that slender body and 
 looked out of those clear, brown eyes ! After they had 
 been walking for about two hours, he uttered a thought 
 which had been in his mind for some time : 
 
 " Since we have come so far in safety, we might rest for 
 a short while. We are neither of us in very good condition 
 for athletic exercise this morning." 
 
 The boy glanced at him suspiciously. 
 
 ''1 think," he said, " that you suggest that on my ac- 
 count. But I am not such a weakling as you imagine. 
 Eemember, /-slept last night." 
 
 " But / did not. So I hope you will allow me to be a 
 little tired. We will take fifteen minutes for rest ; and,
 
 208 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 that our minds may be at ease, we will conceal ourselves 
 while doing so." 
 
 He led the way as he spoke up the hillside which rose 
 above them, and where they found themselves in the midst 
 of the same riotous tangle of every variety of plants and 
 creepers with which they were already so unhappily famil- 
 iar. A few steps were sufficient to put them in perfect 
 seclusion ; for entering within the shelter of one of those 
 strange fig parasites which, having seized and strangled 
 in their embrace some stately tree, drop their long tendrils 
 to the ground from its branches, thus forming a green tent 
 they were absolutely secure from observation. 
 
 Still, the boy was not at ease in mind. 
 
 " You are doing this on my account," he repeated. " I 
 am certain that, on your own, you would not halt when 
 haste is so necessary. And I assure you that I am perfect- 
 ly capable of going on." 
 
 " You will be yet more capable when our rest is over," 
 replied Atherton. " You must remember that we have 
 already taken a great deal out of ourselves, and have had 
 nothing to sustain our strength but a few bananas." 
 
 " All the same, you would not do it if you were alone," 
 persisted the boy. " You think that I will break down 
 again as I did last night, and I don't blame you for think- 
 ing so. I behaved like a fool, and a very weak one at that. 
 In consequence, I am suffering all the pangs of self-con- 
 tempt this morning. But I am not going to repeat my 
 folly and weakness." 
 
 " That is exactly as I thought," said Atherton. " You 
 would prefer to drop in your tracks, as you admitted last 
 night that you came near doing. But I object to so ill- 
 judged a display of the triumph of spirit over matter. My 
 dear boy, you remind me forcibly of some valorous young
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 209 
 
 recruit whose bravery outruns his physical powers, and 
 who has not yet learned discretion, or patience with those 
 limitations of strength which exist, in more or less degree, 
 for all of us." 
 
 " Ah, you are kind to try to restore my self-respect! 
 But I can never forget how I failed last night," answered 
 the other. ' ' Nor can I ever forget that you saved my life, 
 in return for my endangering yours. ' ' 
 
 " Well, are we not told to return good for evil ?" laughed 
 Atherton. " Bah ! you make too much of all this. By 
 the time we have gone round the world together, and been 
 in a dozen or more adventures, you will take such trifles as 
 a matter of course. Now let us talk of Millefleurs, where 
 I hope we shall be to-night." 
 
 "To-night!" (in a tone of incredulity). " Where do 
 you think we are now ?" 
 
 " Unless I am very much mistaken, very near the place 
 where we left our horses." 
 
 " Why do you think so ?" 
 
 ' ' I think so from the general direction we are following, 
 and from the fact that this trail is evidently on the other side 
 of the mountain, upon the flank of which we lost our way. 
 It will, I believe, finally lead us safely around to the mouth 
 of the canon where I found the drift from the gold vein." 
 
 " Oh, then, pray let us get on ! There is surely no rea- 
 son why we should waste time here." 
 
 " The time is not wasted that recruits one's strength. 
 However, since you are so anxious, we will be moving. I 
 wish I had some definite idea how much farther we shall 
 have to go, and whether we shall find our people where we 
 left them." 
 
 " What would have become of them if they are not there ? 
 They surely would not go away without us. ' '
 
 210 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " There is no telling what folly those who are accustomed 
 only to act under orders may commit when left to them- 
 selves. But I have some reliance on Gilbert. He has a 
 strong habit of unquestioning obedience, which may keep 
 him quietly waiting until I appear." 
 
 . He proved to be right in degree, at least. Waiting for 
 them Gilbert was ; but not very quietly, as they discovered 
 by the time they had advanced a mile or two farther. For 
 suddenly as they walked on through the wild, beautiful 
 solitude, they were startled by a sound of distant firing. 
 
 " "What on earth can that be !" cried Atherton, pausing 
 to listen. " Pistol shots ! Can our men have been at- 
 tacked, or are they fighting a duel ?" 
 
 " Perhaps they are firing as a signal to us," suggested 
 De Marsillac. 
 
 " That is exactly what they are doing," said Atherton, 
 as, after a short interval, another shot or two were heard. 
 " Gilbert thinks we may be guided by the sound. That 
 settles the question of our being in the right way, and of 
 their being where we left them. Now let us see if they 
 can hear a shout." 
 
 About ten minutes later the men and horses were in 
 sight ; and the long, weary tramp of the wanderers ended 
 where it had begun. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 IT was late in the evening of the same day when a very 
 tired party arrived again at the gate of Millefleurs. Many 
 hours had passed since the two wanderers found themselves 
 back in the place whence they started, and every one of
 
 THE MAST OF THE FAMILY. 211 
 
 those hours had been filled with employment of one kind 
 or another. Atherton's energy was astonishing. No one 
 familiar with the aspect of the languid passenger who had 
 lounged on the deck of the New York would have recog- 
 nized him in the man who so indefatigably exerted him- 
 self and compelled exertion on the part of others. For 
 finding that, owing to his absence and the consequent alarm 
 it had excited, no more ore had been brought down than 
 the single sack he had sent by Gilbert, his first act, after 
 the pressing bodily needs of himself and his companion had 
 been attended to, was to dispatch the men for a further 
 supply. Then, after a very short rest, and despite the 
 remonstrances of De Marsillac, he returned himself to the 
 head of the gorge, in order to select the best specimens 
 from the vein. All of this occupied time ; following came 
 the loading of the ore upon the horses, the slow return to 
 Milot, the bargaining there for another pack-animal to 
 divide the load secured with much difficulty through the 
 good offices and on the security of the schoolmaster and 
 finally the journey to Millefleurs. 
 
 One point, however, was successfully achieved as a direct 
 result of their misadventure the guide was dismissed. To 
 get rid of him before the important search should be made 
 had been a difficulty which confronted them all along, and 
 which chance now happily removed. For in consequence 
 of a night-long vigil, together with much unaccustomed 
 labor with the pick, this gentleman of leisure found him- 
 self more completely used up than were the two young men 
 who had tramped all night over the hills. When he 
 learned, on reaching Milot, that they did not intend to 
 take the direct road to the Cape, but to diverge again to 
 the old sugar estate, he evinced so much reluctance and 
 carried his protests so far that Atherton summarily die-
 
 212 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 missed him, with permission to take his way to the Cape 
 by any road that pleased him. Then, greatly relieved, 
 they turned their own faces in the direction of Mille- 
 fleurs. 
 
 As a result of these many delays, it was dusk when they 
 reached the old, carved pillars at the entrance to the ave- 
 nue of palms. Riding up this avenue, the fading light 
 veiled all signs of decay in the house they were approach- 
 ing until it almost seemed as if lights might gleam from its 
 windows and hospitable figures come hastening forward to 
 greet them as they neared the broad terrace before it. So 
 strong was this impression that there was something of a 
 shock in the aspect of the dark and silent ruin which con- 
 fronted them, with its roofless walls and empty chambers, 
 when they ascended the terrace steps ; for, striking as had 
 been its sadness by day, it was far more striking now in this 
 waning twilight, that in itself was full of infinitely melan- 
 choly suggestions. 
 
 But there was no time to indulge in the thoughts and 
 memories it roused, since they had the practical work be- 
 fore them of making all their preparations for the night 
 before darkness fell. 
 
 " What do you say, Henri do you care to spend one 
 night of your life within your ancestral walls, if not ex- 
 actly under your ancestral roof?" Atherton asked of his 
 companion, and smiled at the emphatic negative he re- 
 ceived. 
 
 " I shall see ghosts enough outside," the boy answered. 
 " I have no desire to meet the company which would mar- 
 shal within." 
 
 " Then we will not intrude upon them," said Atherton. 
 " But I hardly imagine they will object to our camping 
 here on the terrace. I think, however, that we need not
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 213 
 
 pitch the tent. We are not likely to sleep very much to- 
 night." 
 
 " I should think not !" returned the other, whose pulses 
 were beating so excitedly that he marvelled to hear the 
 thought suggested. "What he would have liked would have 
 been to go directly, without delay even for refreshment, 
 and settle, once for all, the question of what was to be found 
 in Henri de Marsillac's hiding-place beside the old sun- 
 dial. 
 
 He was forced to repress his impatience while supper was 
 prepared and taken his own performance, or lack of per- 
 formance, with regard to it calling forth strong rebuke 
 from Atherton and then to witness preparations for re- 
 pose instead of for the labors which awaited them. 
 
 " We will sleep until midnight," Atherton announced. 
 " The moon will by that time be risen, and we can go to 
 work." 
 
 " I hoped we should go to work at once," said De Mar- 
 sillac in a disappointed tone. " We would sleep better 
 after we had satisfied ourselves.'* 
 
 " You might," Atherton replied; "but I can answer 
 for Gilbert and myself that we shall sleep very well before 
 undertaking any more work, and shall then work better for 
 having slept." 
 
 " I am a selfish wretch to forget how tired you must be, 
 and that you did not sleep at all last night/' said the boy 
 remorsefully. " Of course you must rest. But I shall not 
 sleep, so I will be able to wake you at whatever hour you 
 desire." 
 
 " There is no necessity for that. You must take some 
 rest also. I shall wake easily enough, never doubt." 
 
 " There is nothing I could not sooner do than sleep here 
 to-night," was the reply, in a tone of such earnestness
 
 214 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 that his companion perceived the futility of further remon- 
 strance. 
 
 Indeed Atherton's heart smote him a little for condemn- 
 ing the speaker to several hours longer of suspense ; but, 
 apart from the fact that he was by this time physically 
 worn out, and knew his servant to be very nearly the same, 
 he also knew that it was necessary to wait until the moon 
 had risen before they commenced the work that lay before 
 them. Saying, therefore, " I hope you'll think better of it 
 and go to sleep ; but if you should be awake, call me at 
 twelve," he threw himself into his hammock and was soon 
 sleeping soundly. 
 
 But De Marsillac had been right in affirming that noth- 
 ing was less possible to himself than to sleep in this spot, 
 haunted by so many associations ; on this night which was 
 to decide whether his long journey, with all the risks it 
 involved, had been taken in vain or was to be fully reward- 
 ed. While Atherton slept, he paced like a sentinel up and 
 down the terrace in the wonderful tropical starlight, which 
 makes the term darkness, as applied to night in these re- 
 gions, a mere form of expression. The obscurity was no 
 more than a softening reil thrown over the wide landscape, 
 every feature of which stood clearly revealed in the exqui- 
 site radiance of the shining worlds, thick-sown on a field of 
 deepest blue. 
 
 It was a memorable vigil one never to be forgotten by 
 the young spirit, which was thrilling with imaginations. 
 What a company indeed of ghosts were about him as he 
 paced to and fro before the ruined home of his race ! From 
 the shattered walls and empty doorways came the shades of 
 the gay, luxurious men and women of the past, bowing 
 over jewelled snuff-boxes, rustling silken petticoats fresh 
 from Paris, telling the last scandal from the court of Ver-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 215 
 
 sallies. And behind them followed dark, savage forms with 
 knife and torch children beyond seas of that hydra-headed 
 monster, the Revolution of France. The gay figures were 
 swept away in a hurricane of tears and blood ; the sky grew 
 red with the flames of burning homes ; and a lurid cloud 
 of carnage and barbarism, never again to be lifted, settled 
 upon the land. For how dark that cloud remained, who 
 could know better than one who had witnessed only last 
 night the scene he shuddered to recall, the terrible scene 
 of devil worship and cannibal murder ? Despite his efforts 
 to keep his mind from the awful memory, it returned again 
 and yet again to that picture, which seemed the supreme 
 expression of all that this fated island made by God so 
 fair, rendered by man so horrible had shown him. From 
 the dark ruins of the Cape, with their sinister and tragic 
 memories, to the great fortress built by infernal cruelty 
 and cemented by blood, the desolated plains and deep for- 
 ests had but one story to tell, and that story was epito- 
 mized in the gleam of a deadly knife and a child's helpless 
 cry. " Haiti, Haiti, pays de barbares !" What could the 
 descendant of men who had once made it the wonder of the 
 world for fruitfulness and wealth add to these true and bit- 
 ter words from imperial lips ? 
 
 In thoughts and fancies like these the long hours passed, 
 until at last the moon came up the eastern heaven a 
 strange, mournful presence, as the waning moon ever is, 
 but still able to flood the world with silver light. Her 
 rays, shining in his face, presently awoke Atherton ; and, 
 starting up, he looked around. A slender, dark figure was 
 standing at the edge of the terrace, silhouetted against the 
 wide radiance which had paled the stars. 
 
 " Henri !" he cried and then as the boy turned, " Why 
 have you not called me ? Is it not time ?"
 
 216 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 "It is half -past eleven," was the reply. " I was wait- 
 ing for twelve o'clock." 
 
 " And you have not rested at all ! Foolish boy ! Well, 
 since her lunar majesty is fairly risen, eleven will answer 
 for us as well as twelve. Here, Gilbert ! wake up, man ! 
 It is time to go to work." 
 
 Gilbert rather slowly arose ; and if he had given utter- 
 ance to the thoughts in his mind, he would probably have 
 declared that a master less given to the pursuit of adven- 
 ture was to be desired by a servant who, on engaging to 
 perform the duties of a valet, had not anticipated being 
 called upon to supplement them with the tasks of a miner 
 and treasure-seeker. Nevertheless, when he had shaken off 
 the sluggishness of sleep, even his phlegmatic soul felt a 
 faint thrill of the expectation and suspense which filled the 
 others, as, shouldering the picks, they took their way 
 towards the second terrace of the garden, as Henri de Mar- 
 sillac and his faithful Jacques had taken their way on that 
 August night a hundred years gone by. 
 
 Beaching the circle with less difficulty than on their 
 former visit for Gilbert wielded a cutlass with good effect 
 in clearing a path they found it sufficiently illuminated 
 by the moon's rays to dispense with any other light. Very 
 few words were spoken as they set themselves to the task 
 in hand. First thoroughly clearing the ground around the 
 dial, which had so well and so long stood guard over its 
 trust, they fell to work digging Gilbert and his master 
 alternately using the pick ; for De Marsillac proved quite 
 as incapable of effective labor as Atherton had foretold 
 when he observed his hands the day they sat together on 
 the beach of Turk's Island. 
 
 " Your will is good enough," he said, after the boy had 
 made an ineffectual effort to do his part of the labor re-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 217 
 
 quired ; " but your strength amounts to nothing. Give 
 me the pick." 
 
 There was no alternative but to obey the most gallant 
 will in the world being unable to create muscular strength. 
 And so the person chiefly concerned in that which was 
 sought was forced to stand by inactive while the search 
 was conducted. 
 
 But the work required was, after all, not very great. 
 Evidently time pressed when Henri de Marsillac and his 
 servant had likewise worked here ; and their shallow hid- 
 ing-place would soon have yielded its treasure had suspicion 
 ever been directed to the spot. For the excavation of the 
 searchers had not reached a depth of more than two feet 
 when there was a sudden, sharp sound, as the pick at that 
 moment in Gilbert's hand struck on metal. De Marsil- 
 lac, who was leaning against the sun-dial, uttered an ex- 
 clamation as sharp ; while Atherton, quietly looking on 
 with his hands in his pockets, called out to Gilbert : 
 
 " You have struck it ! Go on at that spot." 
 
 Ten minutes later the top of an iron-bound chest was 
 laid bare ; twenty minutes later two men were eagerly dig- 
 ging around it ; and thirty minutes later they had made 
 their excavation sufficiently large to attempt to lift it out. 
 But the attempt resulted in a complete failure ; the weight 
 which it contained was beyond their joint strength to stir. 
 
 " By Jove !" said Atherton, looking up at the pale boy 
 who stood on the margin of the excavation, "you have found 
 your fortune indeed ! This chest must weigh at least a 
 thousand pounds. It is useless to think of lifting it with- 
 out further assistance, and that cannot be had. So we 
 must open it where it stands." 
 
 " How do you suppose that two men brought it here in 
 the first place ?" asked De Marsillac.
 
 218 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " They did not bring it here filled. They must have 
 deposited the chest and then filled it as we must empty 
 it. Do you observe how much it resembles those treasure- 
 chests of Christophe that we saw at the citadel ? Evident- 
 ly every planter possessed such a receptacle for the safe- 
 keeping of money and valuables. And since the key of 
 this was taken away in the pocket of its owner, we must 
 imitate the soldiery of Christophe and break the lock. 
 Give it a few blows with the pick, Gilbert. " 
 
 A few blows well directed, and the work was done. 
 Then, stepping aside, Atherton motioned the boy, still 
 standing above, to descend. 
 
 " Come," he said, " and lift the lid. You alone have 
 the right to do so." 
 
 It was a moment of such intense excitement and suspense 
 that the speaker did not wonder to see how the slender 
 hand trembled as it lifted the lid. 
 
 What they beheld was a sight which again carried them 
 back to that long past night of terror, and made them feel 
 as if its very breath was upon them. For they could per- 
 ceive with what frantic haste articles of all kinds had been 
 flung headlong into the chest before it was closed and 
 locked. That which first met the eye was a piece of amber 
 satin, some rich drapery apparently, that had been torn 
 down to form a covering under the lid. This removed, 
 they saw beneath a quantity of silver plate massive, richly 
 chased and much tarnished with which were mingled in- 
 discriminately jewel-cases, and boxes evidently containing 
 trinkets and articles of value. 
 
 "Take out that plate, Gilbert," said Atherton, as the 
 owner stood silent and motionless, looking down on 
 the disordered mass, as if struck afresh with the infinite
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 219 
 
 pity of the old tragedy. " We must see what is be- 
 neath." 
 
 He stooped as he spoke, and himself lifted one of the 
 jewel-cases, touched the spring and threw back its top. 
 There was an immediate flash of diamonds, as brilliant as 
 if they had not lain buried in darkness for a century. In- 
 deed, there seemed an accumulated brilliance in the flood 
 of light they emitted as the soft moonbeams fell upon them 
 for the first time in a hundred years. 
 
 "Jewels for a princess !" Atherton exclaimed. " You 
 have reason to thank your ancestor for saving these, Henri." 
 
 " A necklace !" said De Marsillac, taking the case con- 
 taining the sparkling ornament in his hand. " It shall be 
 for Diane. It seems made for her neck." 
 
 Atherton smiled as he looked at the speaker. He liked 
 the boy's devotion to his sister ; and a pleasant vision rose 
 before his own imagination of a fair, slender throat around 
 which those dazzling gems might fitly clasp. 
 
 " The woman does not live who would not be enchanted 
 with such a gift," he said. " It may be that you will find 
 your fortune rests chiefly in these jewels. They are of 
 great value as well as beauty." 
 
 " No," the other answered. " My great-great-grandfa- 
 ther speaks expressly, in the paper of which I have told 
 you, of jewels and plate as well as of gold. We have found 
 the jewels and the plate : the gold must be here." 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir !" said Gilbert, who had now lifted 
 out the heavy silver, consisting of massive dishes and richly 
 ornamented vessels of many kinds ; ' ' but I think the gold 
 is 'ere." 
 
 Atherton and the boy looked eagerly into the chest, and 
 saw a number of bags of soft leather, tied tightly and 
 packed closely together so closely indeed that it required
 
 220 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 considerable effort to dislodge and draw forth one. Once 
 drawn forth, the string confining its mouth dropped away 
 at a touch ; and, opening it, the boy took forth a handful 
 of yellow, shining pieces louis-d'ors, as a glance showed. 
 The gold was found. 
 
 There was a moment's silence as he held out his hand for 
 the other to see. And meanwhile before his mental gaze 
 stood two pictures, clear as if beheld with bodily eyes. 
 Not the haunting shades of Henri de Marsillac and his 
 faithful servant burying this 'gold with feverish haste for 
 the moment they were forgotten but a group of youthful 
 figures on the gallery of an old house ; and a girl who, 
 pointing to the crescent of the moon now shining above 
 them in the tropic heaven, said, " A fortune as distant as if 
 it were yonder ; but perhaps existing, for all that. ' ' And 
 again : the shaded lamplight falling on the faces of two 
 women grown old in sorrow and bereavement, and on fair 
 young faces unfitted for the harsh struggle of life ; while, 
 as one who utters a vow, the same girl cried, " With the 
 help of God I will find that money, if it still remains where 
 Henri de Marsillac placed it !" 
 
 And now it was found. And had not God helped the 
 brave, unselfish heart ? Had He not raised up a friend but 
 for whom success would have been impossible ? Even as 
 Atherton was saying, " My dear boy, I congratulate you 
 with all my heart," the gold dropped in a shower at his 
 feet, and he found his hand imprisoned in the clasp of two 
 other hands, while a voice broken with a hint of tears 
 cried : 
 
 " But for you I should never have found it !" 
 ***** 
 
 " Now," said Atherton, a little later, " a very important 
 part of our work is yet to come. We have to provide for
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 221 
 
 safely smuggling this gold into the Cape and out of the 
 country. And in this you will see the useful part which 
 my sacks of ore those sacks which you were so impatient 
 with me for spending time in filling will play. Gilbert, 
 go and bring one of them here." 
 
 As Gilbert departed, Atherton went on : 
 
 " I fear we must leave the plate. It is too bulky to take 
 away in addition to the gold. I am sorry for the necessity, 
 since not only is it exceedingly handsome, but would be of 
 untold value to you from its age and family association. 
 But there is no help for it : the sacrifice must be made." 
 
 "It is so slight a sacrifice, comparatively, that I shall 
 not grieve over it," said the boy. " I know that you are 
 right : it is impossible for us to take away anything so 
 bulky." 
 
 " It would be to risk nay, almost certainly to incur 
 detection, and the loss of what is far more important. So, 
 when we have taken out all the gold, we will put the silver 
 back in the chest and cover it up again. Perhaps a hun- 
 dred years hence your great-great-grandson may come to 
 find it." 
 
 " One thing is certain," answered the other : " I shall 
 never come myself. Let me once leave this horrible island, 
 and not ten times the value of what lies before us here 
 would bring me back again." 
 
 " The same inducement which brought you now would 
 if necessary bring you back again," said Atherton, " or I 
 am greatly mistaken in you." 
 
 " Yes" (reflectively), " for the same purpose I would do 
 as much again. But, thank God, it can never need to be 
 done again ! Diane's ransom is here." 
 
 " How much is required for the ransom ?" 
 
 " The debt is twenty thousand dollars."
 
 222 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " You have it and to spare, many times over. In that 
 chest there is gold to the value of at least a hundred and 
 fifty thousand dollars." 
 
 "Ho wean you tell?" 
 
 " By a very simple calculation of the number and weight 
 of the bags. And that sum was a small price for anything 
 so valuable as a sugar estate in this island in the old days. ' ' 
 
 " Perhaps it was a small estate, or perhaps the uncer- 
 tainty of the times was taken into consideration in the 
 price. At all events, I am grateful that it was sold for any 
 price ; and grateful beyond measure to Henri de Marsillac 
 who placed that price in safety here." 
 
 " Don't forget to be grateful for the jewels, of which 
 there seems to be many besides the diamonds. Here are 
 some beautiful emeralds. You will be immortalized in the 
 family annals when you go home laden with these spoils." 
 
 " They will all be pleased," said the boy, thinking of 
 the eager young faces that would bend delighted over such 
 fascinating heirlooms of the past. 
 
 Atherton, pursuing his researches, then lifted the lid of 
 a box of sandal-wood. Within was a great confusion of 
 trinkets : lockets, rings, chains, miniatures. One of the 
 last, set in a frame of pearls, he held up to the light, which 
 was sufficiently bright to show that it was a picture of a 
 lovely young woman, dressed and coiffed in a fashion of 
 two hundred years ago. 
 
 "Here is a treasure," he exclaimed. "An ancestress 
 who carries her patent of nobility in her face. Ah ! why 
 do not women look like this now ?" 
 
 " Diane looks like it," said the boy, taking the minia- 
 ture from his hand. "It might almost be a likeness of 
 her." He turned it over, and engraved on the golden back 
 read the name, " Yvonne d'Aulnay." " Ah, I know who
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 223 
 
 it is now I" he said. " She was the wife of Raoul de Mar- 
 sillac, of whom I have told you the first of the family 
 who came over here. In some way she impressed herself 
 deeply on the memory of her descendants ; for I don't 
 think there has been a generation since which has not had 
 an Yvonne." 
 
 " Yvonne ! a quaint but charming name. Breton, I 
 think." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Breton without doubt." 
 
 " It suggests the noble chatelaine of some old chateau in 
 wave-washed Brittany, as much as Diane suggests a beauty 
 of the court. Have you an Yvonne as well as a Diane in 
 your own generation ?" 
 
 " Certainly. It is my " 
 
 In Heaven's name, what was he about to say ? An in- 
 stant more and the heedless tongue would have told all. 
 Absolutely cold with horror at the narrowness of the es- 
 cape, he paused abruptly in a manner which could not have 
 failed to arouse Atherton's surprise if Gilbert had not cre- 
 ated a diversion at the moment by staggering into the cir- 
 cle with the sack of ore. - 
 
 The beautiful miniature and the unfinished speech were 
 at once forgotten, and Atherton eagerly went to work to 
 assist in the carrying out of his plan with regard to the 
 gold. The greater part of the ore was emptied out of the 
 sack, which held about a hundred and fifty pounds ; the 
 bags of gold, weighing each ten pounds or thereabouts, 
 were then placed in it care being taken to make them as 
 much of a solid mass as possible in the centre, and to line 
 the sides with pieces of ore, of which a number were also 
 placed on top before the sack was closed. This done, 
 Atherton felt it carefully over ; lifted it from the ground 
 and set it down again, to be sure that no jingling sound
 
 224 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 was heard to betray the presence of coin ; and then de- 
 clared that no one could possibly suppose it to be other 
 than what it purported to be a sack of ore. 
 
 It was then conveyed away ; another brought, and the 
 same operation repeated ; a process which was continued 
 until the sacks which they had filled with ore were all filled 
 with gold, and the chest was empty. Into this was then 
 replaced the silver plate, and upon it the discarded ore. 
 The lid was closed again, the excavation filled up, all signs 
 of disturbance as much as possible effaced, and three weary 
 but intensely well-satisfied persons turned away from the 
 old sun-dial as the faintly flushing east showed that the 
 sun himself was about to rise on a new day. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " THERE is one thing I must do before we leave here," 
 said Atherton ; " and that is, take some views of the 
 place." 
 
 It was several hours since they had turned away in the 
 flushing dawn from the sun-dial. They had slept De 
 Marsillac heavily after the vigil and excitement of the 
 night had breakfasted, and were now taking their ease on 
 the terrace, beneath the shade of a great mimosa, which 
 spread its branches over them like a green umbrella. 
 Atherton had decided to delay their return to the Cape 
 until the afternoon, so as to avoid notice as much as possi- 
 ble by passing through the city after dark ; and they had 
 therefore some hours still before them to while away as 
 best they could. 
 
 Neither found this difficult ; for both had endured so
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 225 
 
 much fatigue and been so constantly on a strain for two 
 days that rest was a thing to be welcomed and enjoyed, 
 even if it had not been sweetened by the consciousness of 
 success in their undertaking. The last fact, however, was 
 so agreeable that they had been discussing it at length, and 
 bringing its reality fully before them by contemplating the 
 jewels, which lost none of their beauty when seen by day ; 
 until Atherton made a sudden diversion by the speech re- 
 corded above. 
 
 " I had forgotten that you brought a camera," said his 
 companion. " You have not used it." 
 
 " The opportunities for doing so have not been very 
 great, if you remember. The camera was not always at 
 hand when it would have been of use. I should have liked 
 exceedingly to take a view of that Vaudoux meeting, if 
 such a thing had been possible " 
 
 " Don't !" said the other, lifting his hand quickly. 
 " Don't recall that awful scene ! I am trying oh, so 
 hard ! to forget it." 
 
 " You will not succeed. Neither of us will ever forget 
 it. I am sure that years hence a word or an allusion will 
 recall it so vividly that we shall feel the same thrill of hor- 
 ror which we feel to-day." 
 
 " Is it decided that we say nothing about it that we do 
 not report it at all ?" 
 
 " I shall inform Mr. Hoffman and abide by his decision. 
 He knows the people, and can tell whether or not it is 
 worth while to make any report. From what I have heard, 
 I do not believe that the testimony of a white man would 
 have any weight. If it possesses any, I would willingly 
 submit to the inconvenience of acting as a witness to pun- 
 ish those murderers. But you would you be willing to 
 be detained here indefinitely for the purpose ?"
 
 226 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 The boy looked at him with startled eyes ; evidently this 
 thought had not occurred to him. 
 
 " No," he answered after an instant : " I should not be 
 willing. Now that my work is done, my object attained, I 
 can allow nothing to delay my return. I must leave by 
 the first ship." 
 
 " Then nothing must be said of the matter until after 
 you are gone. We don't want to attract attention to our 
 movements and doings until that money is safely out of 
 the country." 
 
 " Do you anticipate any difficulty in getting it out 
 safely ?" 
 
 " Not if my plan is successful as I think it will be. 
 And here comes in the great benefit of having found a 
 genuine vein of gold. I shall make a present of my dis- 
 covery to Mr. Hoffman, and he will probably know some 
 Haytian to whom he can impart the secret on his own 
 terms. If the Haytian (in whose name alone anything can 
 be done) and himself decide to open the mine, they will 
 want an assay of the ore. To obtain this they must send 
 specimens to New York, and I shall advise that a sufficient 
 quantity be sent to make what is called ' a working test.' 
 You, fortunately, are going, and will take charge of the 
 sacks to oblige me. What follows? The sacks, without 
 difficulty or remark, are conveyed on shipboard as contain- 
 ing ore. They do contain enough for the purpose desired, 
 and therefore neither you nor I am guilty of falsehood." 
 
 " You think of everything," said the boy gratefully. 
 " What should I have done without you ! But will you 
 derive no benefit whatever from your discovery of the gold ?" 
 
 " I shall derive the benefit I desire that of enabling 
 you to take your coin safely out of the country. For the 
 rest, I am quite willing that Mr. Hoffman shall make all
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 227 
 
 that he can out of it, in return for the services he has ren- 
 dered us." 
 
 "And what" (with sudden energy) "is to be your re- 
 turn for the inestimable services you have rendered me ?" 
 
 " My return," said Atherton lightly, " is in the pleasure 
 it has given me. What did I tell you when we first talked 
 of this matter on Turk's Island ? Did I not say that I was 
 an idle man, to whom such an interest was a welcome 
 boon ? In fact, if you come to the question of indebted- 
 ness, it is I who am indebted to you for one of the most 
 exciting adventures of my life. It is not every day one has 
 a chance to seek for treasure and, better yet, to find it." 
 
 " What can I say to you !" answered the other, looking 
 at him with eyes that had seemed to him from the first 
 time he met them the most beautiful he had ever seen. 
 " You speak in this way to lessen my sense of obligation ; 
 but you know that I owe you everything. You have given 
 me your time, your thought, your interest ; am I to give 
 you nothing ?" 
 
 " What can you give me, dear boy," replied Atherton, 
 touched by the intense feeling of the words, " except your 
 friendship let us be sentimental enough to say, your affec- 
 tion ? That I shall be glad to have." 
 
 "It is yours, and will be yours as long as my heart 
 beats," said De Marsillac earnestly. " Promise me that 
 you will believe it." 
 
 " Why should I not believe it ? One is generally willing 
 enough to believe what one desires. I hope you will put 
 out of your mind any idea that you owe me gratitude for 
 the aid I have given you. I tell you again, in that matter 
 I pleased myself. I might not have entered on the adven- 
 ture if I had not liked you ; but it would have tempted 
 me, I think, had I liked you less than I did. Put all
 
 228 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 thoughts of indebtedness aside, therefore ; and like me, if 
 you like me at all, for such qualities as I have shown 
 you, and such sympathy as I truly believe exists between 
 us." 
 
 " I could not fail to like as well as to admire you for 
 those things. I could not fail to feel how sympathetic, 
 how unselfish, how altogether kind you have been," an- 
 swered the boy, with the same deep earnestness he had 
 already displayed. " Rut why forbid me to be grateful ? 
 because, whether you forbid it or not, I must be so." 
 
 " If you must" (shrugging his shoulders), " why, then, 
 you must, and there is no more to be said. But 1 do not 
 like it, because it seems to me in some degree a sordid sen- 
 timent, based as it is on a sense of benefits received. Now, 
 I do not wish you to feel that you have received any bene- 
 fits from me, but only such aid as friends may freely give 
 and take." 
 
 ' ' But, unfortunately, my part seems to be to take all 
 and give nothing. What can 7 do for you ?" 
 
 " I thought I had made that clear. If you insist, how- 
 ever, on balancing obligation with obligation which is to 
 me a most objectionable spirit why, I have already told 
 you what you may do : you may introduce me to your sis- 
 ter, Mademoiselle Diane." 
 
 Dead silence for a moment a moment filled with such 
 embarrassment on the part of one, such absolute lack of 
 any possible response, that it was amazing the other did 
 not observe it. In that instant De Marsillac anathematized 
 his own garrulous folly, which by want of reticence had 
 brought this upon him, with a vehemence which, in the 
 way of self-reproach, left nothing to be desired, but which 
 was quite unavailing to provide a remedy. What could he 
 say ? What frightful failure in the gratitude he had just
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 229 
 
 expressed in even hesitating over his answer to such a re- 
 quest ! At length he stammered lamely, awkwardly : 
 
 " You are jesting when you talk of balancing my obliga- 
 tions to you by such a request as that. After I have told 
 Diane what you have done, you will need no introduction, 
 should you ever meet her, but your name that name 
 which we will all ' set in our prayers/ ' 
 
 How sweetly as if to make amends for something lack- 
 ing the musical voice uttered those last words ! Ather- 
 ton could not but look at the speaker with a smile. 
 
 " That is a form of gratitude to which I cannot object," 
 he said. " As for your sister, let me tell you that I 
 shall not leave the matter of our meeting to chance. I in- 
 tend to meet her. I have an idea, based on what I have 
 seen of you, that she is wholly unlike the fin de sibcle 
 women whom one knows so well, and from whom I confess 
 that I turn with a deep distaste. How often I have wished 
 that I could summon back from the past some type that 
 charmed my fancy ! Now, I think that your sister must 
 be the survival of such a type ; only I wish that she were 
 named Yvonne instead of Diane." 
 
 " Why ?" in a very startled tone. 
 
 " Because that quaint, Old-World name nas captivated 
 my imagination. I fancy the chatelaine whom it suggests 
 as one of those heroic figures of women who now and then 
 through the ages have done things so nobly brave that they 
 shame the achievements of men. Gentle as a s int, proud 
 as a queen, faithful to every trust, and capable of fighting 
 like the Countess Matilda, or holding a fortress like many 
 another gallant woman of the past is that the type of your 
 sister?" 
 
 " No" (reluctantly), " that is not Diane. There is noth- 
 ing warlike in her. And, after all" (hesitatingly), "do
 
 230 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 you think you would really fancy a woman who possessed 
 the masculine qualities of which you speak ? I thought 
 men liked women to be as feminine as possible." 
 
 " Bravery is not unfeminine. It is a quality as admir- 
 able in a woman as in a man ; and in the type of which I 
 speak the woman lost no feminine grace by being brave. 
 How is it with yourself ? Would you not like a woman 
 who had in her, under the softness of her sex, the spark of 
 fire which might kindle into some heroic deed?" 
 
 "I don't know." The brown eyes looked away from 
 him over the plain towards the mountains, lovely in their 
 blue-robed distance as ideals, hard and rugged in their real- 
 ity as facts. ' ' A great deal of daring which the world 
 would disapprove is sometimes necessary for a deed that 
 might perhaps be called, by a stretch of terms, heroic." 
 
 " The world disapproved of the Maid of Domremy," said 
 Atherton. " One may imagine that her neighbors and 
 friends thought it very objectionable when she donned 
 armor and went forth to fight. You know we measure the 
 value of such a deed the right which the doer has to set 
 the opinion of the world aside by the object in view and 
 by the end attained." 
 
 The brown eyes, turning back again, looked at him 
 gratefully. 
 
 " I think you are right," was the somewhat wistful re- 
 ply. " If the object in view was very important, one 
 might pardon a woman for setting aside the opinion of the 
 world ; one might think she was right in considering the 
 essentials rather than the appearances of conduct. But" 
 (hastily) " we have wandered far from the subject of which 
 we were speaking the subject of my deep indebtedness to 
 you. Will you add another favor to all that you have al- 
 ready bestowed upon rne, and select a souvenir a remem-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 231 
 
 brance of our adventure from among these jewels which 
 but for you would never have been recovered ?" 
 
 He made a gesture of his hand towards the trinkets 
 which lay "before them in a glittering heap ; and Atherton 
 could not but feel that his manner in preferring the re- 
 quest was the manner of one who does in truth, earnestly 
 yet gracefully, beg a favor. The soft eyes looked at him 
 so appealingly that refusal seemed impossible, unless he 
 were prepared to wound deeply one whom he had so deeply 
 obliged. 
 
 " My dear boy," he said lightly, " this is unnecessary ; 
 for I can never possibly forget our adventure. But if 
 my complying with your request will give you pleas- 
 ure " 
 
 " It will give me the greatest pleasure," interposed the 
 other eagerly. " Nothing could give me more. It will 
 be a great satisfaction to me in the future to think that 
 you have in your possession something which will make 
 you recall Henri de Marsillac and his gratitude whenever 
 you look at it." 
 
 " You speak as if Henri de Marsillac himself was not to 
 play any further part in my life," said Atherton. " On 
 the contrary, I am determined that we shall see a great 
 deal of each other in the future." 
 
 "But life is uncertain" (confusedly). "And, in any 
 event, you must take the souvenir. I could not endure to 
 look at these jewels if you refused to have any of them. 
 Now, what will you choose ?" 
 
 " Not the diamond necklace," said Atherton, laughing. 
 " Your hand seems to be moving in that direction, I per- 
 ceive. Nor anything else of great value ; for, apart from 
 the fact that these are family jewels, what should I do with 
 bracelets or necklaces? If I followed my inclination I
 
 232 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 should Bay, give me the miniature of your beautiful ances- 
 tress " 
 
 " Of course it is yours !" cried the boy with reckless 
 generosity, putting out his hand to take up the pearl-set 
 medallion. 
 
 But Atherton laid his own upon it with a restraining 
 gesture. 
 
 " Stop, stop ! Did you fancy me in earnest?" he said. 
 " That miniature should be in the future, as it evidently 
 has been in the past, a family treasure, not under any cir- 
 cumstances to be given to a stranger." 
 
 " You are not a stranger. You are the person but for 
 whom it would still be buried in the earth, to be found, if 
 ever found at all, by some ignorant negro " 
 
 ' ' No matter ; I have no claim to possess the picture of 
 Madame Raoul de Marsillac, and I was only jesting when I 
 alluded to such a possibility. I was going to add, since 
 that cannot be, you may give me a ring, if you can find an 
 unobtrusive one." 
 
 " There are not very many rings," said the boy. "But, 
 such as there are, will you select one ?" 
 
 Atherton turned them over, and finally selected one 
 which he slipped upon his finger. It held a single ruby, 
 not very large but of rare beauty, with the true pigeon's- 
 blood tint and of exceeding brilliance. 
 
 " I would not willingly deprive you of anything so lovely 
 as this," he said ; " but if you insist on my taking some- 
 thing " 
 
 " I do insist," answered the other ; "but I am disap- 
 pointed in your choice. I wish you would choose some- 
 thing of more value." 
 
 "It is not a question of value, but only of remem- 
 brance," returned Atherton. " This is a particularly fine
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 233 
 
 ruby, however, let me tell you ; and the ruby has always 
 been rny favorite gem. I like the rich color of its deep 
 heart symbol and emblem of passion. I shall keep this 
 in memory of our association and our friendship. Are you 
 satisfied now?" 
 
 " Partially if I must be. And now you must not for- 
 bid me to reward Gilbert for his services." 
 
 " But I do forbid it. To reward Gilbert's services is my 
 affair." 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Atherton no ! Your reward to him will 
 not be mine. Don't prevent me. I would not willingly 
 do anything against your wishes ; but I must give him at 
 least five hundred dollars, or its equivalent, of the gold he 
 helped to find." 
 
 " Obstinate boy, 1 much prefer that you should not. I 
 will reward him fully, amply ; he knows that." 
 
 " Again, let me say, your reward is not mine. Help 
 me, then, to decide how much of this French money is 
 equivalent to the sum I mentioned." 
 
 " If you persist and I see that you do I suppose I 
 must let you have your way in this also. We will attend 
 to the matter presently. But now I want to take those 
 views of which I spoke some time back. I am sure you 
 will like to have one or two pictures of the place where your 
 people lived and where you have found a fortune. Let me 
 see ! I will take the house, the avenue, and the circle of 
 the sun-dial, of course. Gilbert, bring my camera. Come, 
 Henri ; I shall put you in the last picture." 
 
 " No, no !" (with evident consternation.) " That is not 
 to be thought of. I I mean the picture will be much 
 better without me. Figures posing in photographs of 
 famous scenes, or scenes of any kind, always strike me as 
 impertinences. One wants to brush them away."
 
 234 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " I shall not want to brush your figure from that scene, 
 where I consider that it will be most appropriate. And I 
 am certain that your family will agree with me ; and will 
 value the picture more if you are seen in it, standing on 
 the spot where you found the treasure for them." 
 
 " It would be much more appropriate if you were stand- 
 ing on it," said the boy. " At all events, I cannot possibly 
 consent to be taken." 
 
 " But this is nonsense. Why not ?" 
 
 " Because I I have an abhorrence of being photo- 
 graphed. And I think the picture should be of the circle 
 and the sun-dial in their loneliness, not of me." 
 
 " I totally disagree with you. But it is easy to take two 
 photographs : one of the empty circle, and one with you 
 leaning against she sun-dial. I insist on this for myself ; 
 and you are not going to refuse to gratify me in a matter 
 so trivial." 
 
 No, he could not refuse, in a matter apparently so trivial, 
 to gratify one to whom he stood so deeply indebted. The 
 risk was, after all, slight ; faces in these photographs of 
 outdoor, as he remembered with relief, being generally 
 quite indistinguishable. And so, with deep inward reluc- 
 tance but an outward show of yielding gracefully, he said : 
 
 " Of course if you put it in that way I cannot refuse. 
 But I still think the scene would be better without me." 
 
 " What significance would the scene have to me unless 
 your figure were in it?" Atherton asked. " No ; Henri de 
 Marsillac the second must be standing where Henri de 
 Marsillac the first buried his fortune. Come !" 
 
 Night had fallen when the travellers, having timed their 
 arrival carefully, passed through the Cape without chal- 
 lenge of any kind, and rode up to Mr. Hoffman's door.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 235 
 
 That gentleman greeted them warmly, and would have hur- 
 ried them at once into the house, but Atherton paused and 
 pointed to a large steamer which lay at anchor in the star- 
 lit bay. 
 
 " What ship is that ?" he asked. 
 
 " That is the Clyde steamer, from the other side of the 
 island, on her return voyage," was the reply. " She sails 
 for New York to-morrow." 
 
 LETTER FROM HENRI DE MARSILLAC TO HERBERT 
 ATHERTON. 
 
 NEW YOBK, December 31, 1894. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. ATHERTON : I have complied with all 
 your directions concerning the ore : have placed it without 
 delay in the hands of the assayer you designated, who will 
 send direct to you a statement of the result. 
 
 Thanks to your kindness, which anticipated everything, 
 I had no trouble in landing. As we were both anxious 
 that no news of what was found in Hayti should return 
 there, I told no one what the sacks really contained ; and 
 they passed through the custom-house without examina- 
 tion, as ore. My heart was in my throat during this or- 
 deal, you may be sure ; for I knew that if the gold were 
 discovered I should have some difficulty in accounting for 
 its presence ; and that other things might have to be ac- 
 counted for, too. But the risk seemed to me better than 
 the certain attention that would be excited by a story so 
 sensational. I felt that I could risk almost anything rather 
 than that for which I had more reasons than I can tell 
 you. 
 
 For now comes the hardest part of what I have to write. 
 And, being so hard, I will make it brief. It is that I must
 
 230 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 now go out of your life entirely ; that you will never after 
 this hear of me again ; and that I beg you to add one more 
 kindness to the great kindnesses you have already done me, 
 by putting me out of your memory altogether and making 
 no inquiry about me. 
 
 And, indeed, why should you not put out of your mem- 
 ory one who will seem to you so ungrateful ? I can ex- 
 plain nothing ; I cannot even ask for your kind remem- 
 brance of what I was in the time we were together. I only 
 assure you and you will not believe this, nor can I blame 
 you for disbelieving it that as long as life lasts I shall 
 hold your memory in my heart ; and that I shall pray un- 
 ceasingly that you may be rewarded in fullest measure for 
 all yon have done to help one who needed your help most 
 sorely, and thanks you for it now more than any poor 
 words can say. 
 
 And so God bless you, and farewell ! 
 
 HENRI.
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " AH, Varigny ! You are the very man I am looking 
 for." 
 
 So said one young man to another, by whose side he 
 dropped into a chair in the window of a New Orleans club- 
 house. The person addressed glanced up with some surprise. 
 
 " Looking for me, Langdon ?" he said. " What do you 
 want?" 
 
 "Nothing very much," the other replied. "I only 
 want to introduce to you a man who seems consumed with 
 curiosity about the old French families, old French cus- 
 toms, and old French history of New Orleans. Now, I'm 
 not at all informed on these subjects ; but you must be, 
 since you belong to a representative French family. He'll 
 bore you, no doubt ; but you've no objection to knowing 
 him, I suppose ?" 
 
 " If he is a friend of yours, certainly not," said Varigny. 
 
 " He's a little more than a friend : he's a distant rela- 
 tive, whom I wish was a good deal nearer. Some thirty 
 or forty years ago a cousin of my father went to California," 
 and his daughter married Atherton the millionaire. I be- 
 lieve he wasn't a millionaire when she married him, but he 
 became one afterwards ; and this is her son." 
 
 "It is not to his discredit that his father is a million- 
 aire," remarked Varigny temperately. " What is he like 
 himself?"
 
 238 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " A good deal like an Englishman the genuine article, 
 not the American imitation, you understand. He doesn't 
 make a point of talking London slang ; and doesn't even 
 let you know, unless it comes up naturally, that he is an 
 Oxford man. He's quiet, well-bred, and without an ounce 
 of pretension on the score of his millions." 
 
 " Why should a man have pretensions on the score of 
 possessing millions which somebody else accumulated ?" 
 asked the young Creole, with a quiet shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 ' ' Why, indeed ? But one knows, all the same, that the 
 pretensions of such men are often unbearably offensive at 
 least to that large proportion of the world which does not 
 possess millions. But Atherton, you see, has good blood 
 on his mother's side, and therefore knows better." 
 
 " That" (with gravity) "is no doubt to be considered. 
 And is he here for any special purpose ?" 
 
 " !No : merely as an idler. It seems that he is threat- 
 ened with consumption, and the doctors ordered him to the 
 West Indies. He found life dull there, and has come over 
 from Cuba here. For lack of other interest, I presume, 
 he is, as I have said, immensely interested in the Creole 
 families ; so I am sure he will like to meet you." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to meet him. Where is he to be 
 found ?" 
 
 4 ' In the smoking-room at present at least I left him 
 there when I started in search of you, somebody having 
 mentioned that you had come in. If you like, we'll look 
 him up." 
 
 Varigny, assenting, rose a slender man with a quiet 
 manner and somewhat languid grace of movement, which 
 did not conceal the latent nerve and fire that would be 
 quick to answer to any demand made upon them. His face 
 was strikingly handsome, with clear, olive tints, finely cut
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 239 
 
 features, and brilliant dark eyes ; while his lithe, graceful 
 figure, tapering to delicately small extremities, betrayed 
 only to a practised eye the muscles of steel it possessed. 
 
 Langdon belonged in all respects to a different type. AB 
 commonplace as the other was picturesque in appearance, 
 he was large-limbed, loosely built, and inclining to stout- 
 ness. But his good-humored face was not without attrac- 
 tion ; and his aspect was that of one sure of himself and 
 his surroundings, with a comfortable conviction that he 
 had little to desire in life which was not within his reach. 
 
 They speedily found the man, described as manifesting 
 a consuming curiosity about old Creole families, where he 
 had been left sunk in the depths of an easy- chair, smok- 
 ing, and listening with perfunctory attention to two 
 club gossips talking such social scandal as flourishes for 
 the benefit and by the aid of persons like themselves. 
 " I know for a fact that the matter will end in a separa- 
 tion," one of them was saying as Langdon and Varigny 
 came up. 
 
 " Are you fellows on that topic still ?" remarked the 
 former. " ' At every breath a reputation dies,' might be 
 truly said of you ! Atherton, here is a man who has the 
 history of every French family in Louisiana at his fingers' 
 ends, for the best of all reasons that he is connected with 
 every one of them and who is himself a sample of their 
 best. Let me introduce Mr. Varigny." 
 
 " Our friend Langdon gives me credit for more claims 
 on your consideration than I really possess," said Varigny, 
 as Atherton and himself shook hands. " 1 am by no 
 means connected with every French family in Louisiana ; 
 nor am I ' ' 
 
 " Don't say you are not a sample of their best," inter- 
 posed Langdon. " For you must know that you are ; or
 
 240 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 if you don't, the rest of us know it so well as to make your 
 knowledge non-essential." 
 
 " We'll waive that point if you insist upon it," Varigny 
 responded, smiling. " I was about to say that I am not 
 possessed of the exhaustive knowledge regarding them with 
 which you credit me. But, for all that, I can possibly 
 either answer myself or find some one who can answer any 
 reasonable question Mr. Atherton may desire to ask about 
 any particular French family. Or is your interest merely 
 general in its nature?" he added, addressing that gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " It is both general and particular," answered Atherton, 
 thinking, as he looked at the speaker, that between him 
 and a certain boyish face which dwelt in his memory there 
 was a striking resemblance of type, which in no respect 
 amounted to personal likeness, but distinctly marked them 
 as belonging to the same race. And perhaps he saw this 
 the more clearly because his perceptions were quickened in 
 all that related to that face by deep and stern resentment 
 towards it towards the frank lips that had deceived, and 
 the beautiful eyes that had cheated him out of the interest 
 and affection he had all his life so sparingly bestowed. 
 
 " Your history is so rich in romantic interest," he went 
 on, as Varigny, having sat down, regarded him expectant- 
 ly, " that one would need to be devoid of all imagination 
 who did not find it fascinating. But it is likely that you 
 are tired of hearing this ; and tired, too, of imparting in- 
 formation about its details to curious strangers." 
 
 " Not at all," replied the other courteously ; " provid- 
 ed that strangers do not talk to us of the extremely imagi- 
 native creations of certain novelists, and expect us to recog- 
 nize them as types of Creole character and life. Of what 
 has real existence, either in history or in the present, we
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 241 
 
 are quite ready to speak ; being ourselves perhaps a little 
 proud of our past, and much attached to its tradi- 
 tions/' 
 
 " Who would not be proud of such a past !" said Ather- 
 ton. " It is not the fault of those from whom you are de- 
 scended that this whole continent is not French instead of 
 English to-day ; for the world has never known a more gal- 
 lant, adventurous and hardy race than the early French 
 settlers of America. Marquette, La Salle, Frontenac, De 
 Bienville the mere sound of their names recalls achieve- 
 ments of daring, marvels of iron endurance, such as no 
 other race can show on the soil of the New World." 
 
 The young Creole smiled, and his dark eyes had a light 
 of pleasure in their brilliant depths. 
 
 " Je vous remercie, monsieur," he said ; and added, in 
 the same language : " We think so, who have sprung from 
 the race of which you speak ; but it does not naturally be- 
 come us to dwell very much upon these things. There is 
 one who would like to talk to you of them, however ; and 
 that is my father. He is of the old order ; he has no taste, 
 no love for the new. His mind is stored with memories, 
 traditions, stories of the past ; and it is possible that you 
 would be interested in meeting him." 
 
 " It is not only possible but certain/' Atherton replied. 
 " I should be extremely interested in meeting him." 
 
 " Then you must come over into our old French city ; 
 for my father seldom goes beyond its boundaries, now that 
 he has grown old. He never liked the new American city, 
 but now he tries to forget its existence. It is still not very 
 difficult to achieve that in the ' Vieux Carr'e. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Which comprises within its limits all that is worth see- 
 ing or remembering in New Orleans," said Atherton. " I 
 assure you that it will give me the greatest pleasure to
 
 242 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 make a pilgrimage to any part of it in order to form the 
 acquaintance of your father." 
 
 " It is settled, then. Are you engaged for this even- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I have no engagement which I cannot put aside." 
 
 ' ' In that case I shall have the pleasure of calling for you 
 at shall we say eight o'clock ? You are to be found " 
 
 " At the Hotel Royal, quite in the heart of your old city. 
 For the matter of that, how could one possibly think of 
 being found anywhere else !" 
 
 " You do us and our old city too much honor. May I 
 ask if your interest in these things has been awakened since 
 your arrival here ?" 
 
 " My interest in New Orleans, yes. In old French 
 families or, to speak more correctly, in one old French 
 family no. And this" (glancing around to satisfy him- 
 self that the gossips had withdrawn) " suggests a question 
 which I have been anxious to ask of some one able to an- 
 swer it authoritatively, as you no doubt can. Is it true, as 
 I have been informed, that the family called De Marsillac 
 is extinct?" 
 
 The young Creole looked surprised. 
 
 " The name is extinct," he replied ; "for all the men 
 who bore it were killed in the war. But the family still 
 survives in the persons of Madame Prevost, born De Mar- 
 sillac, and her daughters." 
 
 "She has no son?" 
 
 "None." 
 
 " There is positively no male alive who has a right to 
 call himself De Marsillac ?" 
 
 " I will not go so far as that," said the other, with a 
 smile ; " but I am certain there is none in Louisiana. 
 Have you met some one calling himself De Marsillac ?' '
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 243 
 
 " Not only calling himself so, but taking all the rights 
 which should accompany the name." 
 
 " And those rights," asked the young man with aston- 
 ishment, " were what ?" 
 
 Atherton hesitated before replying. Deep as was hia in- 
 dignation against the boy who, he said to himself, had be- 
 fooled and deceived him, some instinct whether of past 
 trust or past affection held him back from denouncing 
 him as an impostor and appropriator of that to which he 
 had no claim. And while he hesitated Varigny went on : 
 
 " I ask the question because I do not know what rights 
 a self-styled De Marsillac could claim. All that remains 
 of the family wealth is a plantation on Bayou Teche, which 
 belongs to Madame Prevost ; on which, in fact, she lives. 
 And, although that has been heavily mortgaged, she has 
 lately been able to pay off the mortgage, and therefore no 
 one could possibly claim it." 
 
 The mortgage ! How clearly at that word there rose be- 
 fore Atherton the picture of a wide, sleeping bay overhung 
 by a tropical heaven ; of dim, mysterious, encircling moun- 
 tains ; of the gleaming lights of a city from which the dark 
 shadow of blood might never pass away ; of heavy tropical 
 foliage softly rustling in the breath of a fragrant land- 
 breexe ; while a voice full of music, and, he would have 
 sworn, of truth, told him of a threatened home, and of a 
 mortgage which might be paid only by sacrifice or by dar- 
 ing ! He looked quickly at Varigny. 
 
 " Do you know," he inquired, " where the money which 
 paid that mortgage came from ?" 
 
 He did not think until after the words had left his lips 
 how singular would be their sound in the ear of the man to 
 whom they were addressed. In fact, the latter was for a 
 moment confounded. Then, recovering himself, but with
 
 244: THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 a stiffness of manner which told with sufficient clearness 
 what he thought of such an inquiry, he answered : 
 
 " That is surely Madame Prevost's private affair. If I 
 did know I should not feel myself at liberty to say." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Atherton. "The question 
 escaped me unawares. Of course you could not be expect- 
 ed to answer it. I asked only because well, because I am 
 greatly puzzled." 
 
 " About the payment of the mortgage on Madame Pre- 
 vost's plantation ?" asked the other, with growing aston- 
 ishment. " Do you, then, know any of the family ?" 
 
 " None/' 
 
 " And yet " 
 
 " And yet I am curious about their private affairs, you 
 would say. But it is not that I am interested, in so far as 
 those affairs relate to them ; but perhaps to the De Mar- 
 sillac who, you assure me, does not exist. ' ' 
 
 " You talk in riddles, Mr. Atherton. Do I understand 
 that this De Marsillac claimed to belong to the same family 
 as the Prevosts ?" 
 
 " I cannot say that, because the name of Prevost is new 
 to me. I have heard it for the first time since my arrival 
 in New Orleans. But he claimed to represent the De Mar- 
 sillac who came to Louisiana as a refugee from the island 
 of Santo Domingo." 
 
 "It is the same family ; there is no other of the name 
 in Louisiana. Therefore the man who told you he repre- 
 sented it could only have been an impostor." 
 
 " That is what I am constrained to believe. And if so, 
 these people of whom you speak these Prevosts should 
 be put in possession of some facts relating to him." 
 
 " Facts affecting their interest ?" 
 
 " Very much affecting their interest."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 245 
 
 Varigny was silent for a moment, as if reflecting. Then 
 he said : 
 
 " Do you know that you rouse my curiosity exceed- 
 ingly?" 
 
 " There is no reason why I should not gratify it," Ather- 
 ton replied, "except for the fact that in what so nearly 
 concerns them I should perhaps first address the Pre- 
 vosts. Yet, if you are a friend of theirs, I may, by placing 
 the matter in your hands, relieve myself of any responsi- 
 bility " 
 
 " No. On consideration, I should much prefer that you 
 communicated with them directly, since the matter seems 
 to you important," said the young Creole. " It is for them 
 to take me into their confidence if they care to do so." 
 
 " But where shall I find them ?" 
 
 " Their home is on Bayou Teche. But my sister is ex- 
 
 %/ / 
 
 pecting a visit from one of the daughters of Madame Pre- 
 vost next week. You may, if you think it well, communi- 
 cate your information to her." 
 
 ' ' I shall be glad if you will afford me an opportunity to 
 do so. It may be too late for any practical result ; but, 
 since her family are very much concerned in certain acts of 
 the person calling himself De Marsillac, I do not feel justi- 
 fied in withholding from them my knowledge of what has 
 been done." 
 
 " And I," said Varigny, " shall have pleasure in arrang- 
 ing for you to meet Miss Prevost as soon as possible after 
 her arrival."
 
 246 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IT was with a more serious expression of countenance 
 than he might have been supposed to wear as a result of 
 learning that some one without right to do so had been 
 masquerading as a De Marsillac of Louisiana, that Varigny, 
 having parted with Atherton at the club, found himself a 
 little later walking homeward along Royal Street. 
 
 A son of the old French city, his feet were naturally at 
 home on the banquette of this its most famous thorough- 
 fare ; and the preoccupied expression did not leave his face 
 as he walked past the flashy saloons and concert halls, the 
 cheap restaurants and oyster houses, which, as signs of in- 
 vading Americanism, have spoiled the street in the neigh- 
 borhood of Canal ; nor yet when, unmarred by such inno- 
 vations, it stretched before him, a vista of wonderful 
 picturesqueness, with the lines of its irregular roofs, gables, 
 eaves and dormers cutting fantastically against the sky, 
 and its long balconies of wrought iron projecting from the 
 fronts of its variedly tinted houses. It was all familiar, as 
 sights seen from infancy can alone be familiar ; but to-day 
 he looked at it with a more than usually absent gaze. 
 
 Past the small, quaint shops, where French was the only 
 language spoken by the French-looking men and women 
 within ; past more green -shuttered, iron-balconied, quaint- 
 ly tile-roofed houses ; past the Hotel Royal no ordinary 
 hostelry, but a landmark of history ; past the foliage-filled 
 cathedral garden, beyond which the rear of the great church 
 shows ancient and strong ; and so, still absent, preoccu- 
 pied, unheeding, on to where the French Quarter ends 
 with aristocratic Esplanade Street, lined with the homes of 
 wealthy Creoles. A few more steps, then, entering and
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 247 
 
 passing through a garden, Mr. Varigny let himself into a 
 stately, wide-balconied house and was at home. 
 
 " Is that you, Adrien ?" cried a musical voice as he en- 
 tered the hall ; and through a curtained doorway a girl's 
 bright young face glanced out. " Come ! I have news for 
 you." 
 
 " What news ?" asked Adrien, pushing aside the portibre 
 and entering a room full of soft, delicate colors, and the 
 peculiar brightness of aspect which characterizes Parisian 
 rooms as was not remarkable, since almost every object in 
 it had come direct from Paris, where the Varignys rarely 
 failed to spend a portion of every year. French of the 
 French, too, was the figure it enshrined. Octave Varigny 
 was not so handsome for a woman as her brother for a 
 man ; but she possessed the true Creole fascination of ap- 
 pearance and manner a fascination difficult to define, but 
 still more difficult to resist, as one sees it in these delicate- 
 ly fashioned, dark-eyed girls who have grown up among 
 the roses and magnolias of the old French city. Such a 
 girl was Octave, polished to her finger-tips, yet with a gay, 
 childlike simplicity of character and manner which suited 
 her face, with its soft ivory tints, its mischievous dark eyes, 
 and the smiling lips, which answered her brother now. 
 
 " What news should it be except of Diane ? I have had 
 a letter from her. She comes to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow !" Pleasure flashed into his face. " That 
 is sooner than you expected. I have just said that she will 
 be here next week." 
 
 " To whom did you say so ?" 
 
 " To a man I met at the club, who has a particular rea- 
 son for wishing to meet her. " 
 
 " For wishing to meet Diane ! Who is he ?" 
 
 " You don't know him. His name is Atherton ; he is
 
 248 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 a cousin of George Langdon and son of a California mil- 
 lionaire." 
 
 " Does he know Diane?" 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " Then why has he a particular reason for wishing to 
 meet her? Don't be so mysteriously reticent., Adrien. 
 One has to drag out of you whatever one wants to know." 
 
 " You can't drag out of me what I don't know, Octave. 
 The man of whom I speak is more mysterious than I am. 
 I don't at all know why he wishes to meet Diane, except 
 that it is to tell her of a certain De Marsillac whom he has 
 lately met, who claims to represent the family of which, as 
 we know, the Prevosts are the only representatives." 
 
 " But is that remarkable ? Do not people often assume 
 names to which they have no right ?" 
 
 " Very often ; but it seems that there has been some- 
 thing more than the assuming of a name in the case. Mr. 
 Atherton says that this De Marsillac also claimed certain 
 rights of the family." 
 
 "What rights?" 
 
 " He did not tell me. That is to be the subject of his 
 communication to Diane. But he was deeply struck by 
 hearing that Madame Prevost had lately paid the mortgage 
 on her plantation, and asked if I knew where the money to 
 pay it had come from." 
 
 " What a very impertinent question ! And you told 
 him " 
 
 " That even if I knew, I should not think of speaking 
 of Madame Pre vest's private affairs." 
 
 " And then ?" 
 
 "Oh, then he apologized. I really think the question 
 slipped from him unawares ; but his manner left an im 
 pression upon me which I cannot shake off a very dis-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 249 
 
 agreeable impression. Octave, where did that money come 
 from f" 
 
 Octave shook her head. " I don't know," she answered. 
 " Somebody from Bayou Teche told me that Madame Pre- 
 vost had unexpectedly recovered a part of the family for- 
 tune which was supposed to have been lost. But I heard 
 no details, and I am sure it does not matter. We are no 
 more concerned to know how she obtained it than the man 
 who asked the question." 
 
 " There you are mistaken. I am much more concerned ; 
 for I am the friend of Madame Prevost, and there is some 
 mystery which connects this money with the person calling 
 himself De Marsillac whom Mr. Atherton met." 
 
 " Did Mr. Atherton say so ?" 
 
 " No, but his manner implied it." 
 
 " If his manner implied it, why didn't you ask him dis- 
 tinctly what was the connection ?" 
 
 ' ' Because I have no right to know more of the private 
 affairs of the Prevosts than they choose to tell me. When 
 he spoke of desiring to communicate his knowledge to some 
 member of the family, I told him that one of Madame Pre- 
 vost's daughters would be here next week, and that he 
 could see her ; on which he said that he would certainly 
 do so, since their interest was very deeply affected by 
 the acts, whatever they may have been, of the false De 
 Marsillac." 
 
 " But I cannot understand," cried Octave impatiently, 
 ' ' how their interest could be injuriously affected ; or how 
 they could be in ignorance of his acts, if as you say this 
 Mr. Atherton implied he had some connection with pay- 
 ing off the mortgage on the plantation." 
 
 Varigny spread out his hands with a significant gesture. 
 
 " I do not pretend either to understand or to explain,"
 
 250 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 he said. " The man talked in riddles, and I did not 
 choose to press him for an explanation." 
 
 "But Diane can have nothing to do with it." 
 
 To this positive assertion Varigny made no reply ; so, 
 after waiting for a moment, Octave repeated it with slight 
 variation. 
 
 " You know that Diane can have nothing to do with 
 it," she said. 
 
 "How can I know?" he inquired. "There is some- 
 thing mysterious about the paying of that debt. And we 
 know this that before it was paid, pressure was brought 
 to bear upon Diane to induce her to save the property by 
 marrying Burnham, the son of the old usurer who held the 
 mortgage. The insolent cub boasted that she had agreed 
 to do so." 
 
 " And if she had," said Octave boldly, " it was as one 
 who would agree to go to the stake if no alternative offered. 
 I knew that." 
 
 " You knew it ! And never told me !" 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "Why should I have told you?" she asked. "You 
 would have been furious ; you would have rushed to Bayou 
 Teche, and and made Diane more miserable. For what 
 could you have done ? Had you twenty thousand dollars 
 to pay the mortgage and save her mother's home ?" 
 
 " I would have obtained it. I would have pledged my 
 credit to the utmost to help Diane. You know it, and 
 she should have known it." 
 
 " Perhaps you would ; and so have started in life with a 
 debt for which you would have reproached her later, in 
 your thoughts if not with your lips," said Octave, with a 
 shrewdness beyond her years. " Diane would never have 
 consented to that. I knew it, and so I said nothing. Be-
 
 THE MAX OF THE FAMILY. 251 
 
 sides, I hoped that the necessity might be averted as it 
 has been. " 
 
 " But how ? That brings us back to the first point. 
 Where did the money come from ?" 
 
 " That, as you told the inquisitive stranger who started 
 the inquiry, is surely Madame Prevost's private affair." 
 
 " It is also my affair, if Diane is pledged for it again 
 as she may be. For who is this man calling himself De 
 Marsillac ?" 
 
 " An impostor it appears, since he has no right to the 
 name ; and you cannot think that Diane would have any 
 connection with such a person." 
 
 " I am at a loss to know what to think," replied Varigny. 
 
 "Then I will tell you," said Octave. "Think that 
 Diane is incapable of doing anything unworthy ; and that 
 whatever mystery there may be about Madame Prevost's 
 affairs, or about this person called De Marsillac, it will 
 prove to be a mystery which throws no shadow on her. 
 Bah !" with supreme scorn " how little faith men have !" 
 
 " I have all possible faith in Diane," replied her broth- 
 er. " You misunderstand me entirely. What I fear is 
 that the person whom Mr. Atherton met did not take the 
 name of De Marsillac without the knowledge of the Pre- 
 vosts ; and that if he paid the debt of Madame Prevost, 
 Diane may be bound to sacrifice herself to him, as she 
 would have sacrificed herself to Burnham." 
 
 " Such a fear is absurd," said Octave with decision. 
 " But I will know all about the matter if there is any- 
 thing to be known as soon as Diane comes. In the mean 
 while I wish that I could meet this Mr. Atherton." 
 
 "You can be gratified. I have promised to introduce 
 him to my father this evening. If you stay at home you 
 will meet him."
 
 252 THE MATST OF THE FA.MILY. 
 
 " Then I shall certainly stay at home. And if I cannot 
 learn more from him than you have been able to do, I will 
 
 give you leave to call me as stupid as a man !" 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 It was a charming scene upon which Atherton entered 
 that evening in the Varigny house. The apartment into 
 which he was ushered, with its Parisian aspect, made a 
 harmonious background for the group of persons assembled 
 a group consisting of the family and two or three friends 
 than whom no more distinctively French people could be 
 found in Paris itself. Atherton felt that he had not ap- 
 preciated before how purely the Gallic type had been pre- 
 served by these transplanted children of France until he 
 saw this group, composed entirely of Creoles, with their 
 faces, voices, gestures, all full of French vivacity and grace. 
 But the most striking as well as the central figure of the 
 group was the stately old gentleman whom Adrien present- 
 ed as his father. He had a military bearing which ren- 
 dered his military title of colonel less inappropriate than 
 such titles usually are ; while his slender, erect form pos- 
 sessed the same look of steel -like strength which distin- 
 guished that of his son ; and his snow-white hair and mus- 
 tache, both carefully cut and trimmed, contrasted admirably 
 with his clear olive skin, his brilliant dark eyes, and fine, 
 aristocratic features. 
 
 He received Atherton with great courtesy, and presented 
 him to his wife, to his daughter Mademoiselle Octave, and 
 to his old friends Judge and Madame Guichard and 
 Dr. Latour ; after which he invited him to a seat beside 
 himself. 
 
 ''My son tells me," he then began, "that you are a 
 stranger in New Orleans, and that you are much interest- 
 ed in our old city."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 253 
 
 " I am a stranger in New Orleans yes/' Atherton an- 
 swered. " But, since my mother was born here, my inter- 
 est is perhaps more than a stranger would ordinarily 
 feel." 
 
 ' Your mother was born here ! May I ask her name ?" 
 
 " Langdon Mary Langdon." 
 
 "Ah !" a very significant interjection. " I know the 
 name. It belongs to the later time of New Orleans ; or, 
 rather, to what we used to call the ' American Quarter,' as 
 people now speak of the ' French Quarter/ " 
 
 "I regret," observed Atherton, smiling, "that this is 
 the utmost I can do towards claiming connection with the 
 true New Orleans. But, although my blood belongs to the 
 other side of Canal Street, my interest, I assure you, is all 
 on this side, in your fascinating old city." 
 
 " You find it fascinating ? Ah, it was once the only city 
 in America worth living in ; but it is now a shadow, a 
 ghost of what it was. As for the new city bah ! it is a 
 commonplace American town, with no distinction save 
 what is lent by its connection with us." 
 
 " It is impossible to question that," answered Atherton 
 very sincerely. " No city in America I mean, of course, 
 in the States has a history so picturesque and romantic as 
 that of New Orleans. And what is recorded of its past 
 must be but a small part of what existed." 
 
 Colonel Varigny's lifted hands and shoulders signified 
 that it was a smaller part than words could express. 
 
 " No one not even my old friend Judge Gayarre has 
 ever been able to put on record all the brilliant and pic- 
 turesque life of Creole Louisiana," he said. " Do you re- 
 member what Talleyrand said of French society before the 
 Revolution ? ' Qui n'a pas vecu avant 1789, ne connait 
 pas la douceur de vivre.' 1 So it is of our Louisiana, Who
 
 254 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 did not know it before war and the American element 
 changed it, does not know it at all. " 
 
 " I told you how it was with my father," said the younger 
 Varigny, approaching. " He is a conservative of conserva- 
 tives, and has no love for the new order of things. But 
 have you asked the question you desire to have answered ? 
 No ? Mr. Atherton," turning to his father, " wishes a lit- 
 tle information about the De Marsillac family. Am I not 
 right in telling him that the family, as a family, is extinct, 
 although the blood survives in the Prevosts ?" 
 
 " You are quite right," replied his father. " Poor 
 Achille de Marsillac and his two sons all perished in the 
 war. I know of no family that suffered more severely. 
 Gabrielle, the daughter ah, there was a beauty for you ! 
 who married Louis Prevost, alone represents the family 
 now." 
 
 " Was there no other branch ?" asked Atherton. 
 
 " Certainly not," was the decided reply. " The family 
 had no branches at least in Louisiana. You see, they had 
 not been very long planted here. They were ' San Domin- 
 guais ' that is, refugees from the island of Santo Domin- 
 go at the time of the insurrection of the slaves." 
 
 " Yes," assented Atherton, who had heard this fact be- 
 fore. " And you are sure there was no offshoot of the 
 stem ?" 
 
 " Perfectly sure. I have often heard Achille de Marsil- 
 lac say that his father was the sole survivor of his family, 
 while he himself was an only son. So you see there is no 
 possible place for an offshoot." 
 
 " And yet," said Atherton, 4< I have lately met a young 
 man, almost a boy, who not only called himself De Marsil- 
 lac, but who seemed to have the family history at his fin- 
 gers' ends."
 
 THE MAK OF THE FAMILY. 255 
 
 " That proves nothing. He probably belongs to some 
 obscure Creole family ; and, borrowing the name of De 
 Marsillac, thought it well to support his claim by allusions 
 to the history of the family, which is sufficiently well 
 known." 
 
 " Since Mr. Atherton is so much interested in the De 
 Marsillacs," said Octave, approaching so unexpectedly that 
 Atherton started a little as he turned towards her, " he may 
 like to have an opportunity to meet a member of the fam- 
 ily. You know, papa, we are expecting a visit from Diane 
 Prevost." 
 
 " Certainly," assented her father. "A charming girl, 
 but hardly so beautiful as her mother. A daughter of Ma- 
 dame Prevost," he added, addressing Atherton, " who, as 
 I have said, now alone represents the De Marsillac family." 
 
 But Atherton was for a moment struck dumb. Diane ! 
 It was a name with which his ears were most familiar ; but 
 Diane de Marsillac, not Diane Prevost ! Were they the 
 same ? And if so, who was the youth who, masquerading 
 as Henri de Marsillac, claimed to be the brother of a girl 
 who had no brother ? He felt bewildered by these recur- 
 ring clues to the mystery that seemed to grow deeper rather 
 than clearer as he pursued his inquiries. 
 
 Octave, watching him closely, saw that he was visibly 
 startled by the name of Diane. "What can it mean?" 
 she thought ; and her own curiosity waked as strongly as 
 her desire to satisfy her brother. 
 
 " Papa is right," she said, addressing Atherton. " Miss 
 Prevost is one of the most beautiful girls in Louisiana ; 
 and well worth meeting for her own sake, whether or 
 not she can throw any light upon your mysterious De 
 Marsillac." 
 
 " What possible light can Diane throw upon him ?"
 
 256 THE MAK OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 asked her father. " She can only repeat what I tell you 
 that she has no relation of the name." 
 
 " It will at least interest her to hear of this person who 
 claims to be one," said Octave. " He seems to have taken 
 a good deal of unnecessary trouble to deceive Mr. Atherton, 
 who had never heard of the De Marsillacs. It was not in 
 Louisiana that you met him ?" she asked, turning to that 
 gentleman. 
 
 " No," he answered. " It was in the West Indies." 
 
 ' ' The West Indies ! But in that case he may have been 
 a genuine De Marsillac. They were West Indians, you 
 know." 
 
 " Octave," said her father irritably, " did you not hear 
 me state that the only survivor of the West Indian family 
 was the father of Achille de Marsillac ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa ; but there might have been some mistake 
 about all the rest of the family perishing in the insurrec- 
 tion. Such mistakes are made sometimes." 
 
 " It was not a mistake in this instance," answered Ather- 
 ton. " The person whom I met distinctly asserted that he 
 was a Louisianian. " 
 
 " And you know him well ?" 
 
 "Quite well." 
 
 " And he was that is, seemed to be a gentleman ?" 
 
 " I should have said at the time when I was associated 
 with him, thoroughly so ; in fact, of an unusual refine- 
 ment. He struck me as one who had been brought up 
 under altogether feminine influences, and he said " 
 
 " Yes, he said " 
 
 But Atherton, who had paused abruptly, did not continue 
 at this question. He was silent a moment longer a mo- 
 ment in which he decided that he would not be drawn on 
 to speak further until he had a little more light upon the
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 257 
 
 mystery which was puzzling him. Looking into Octave's 
 eyes bright with interest and curiosity, he replied quietly : 
 
 " Pardon me, but I prefer to add nothing more. It is 
 possible that I might be doing an injustice, for which I 
 should be sorry. It is also barely possible that Miss Pre- 
 vost may be able to throw some light on this person ; and 
 if so, we will leave the matter of identifying him to her." 
 
 And, as if this was not sufficiently provoking, Adrien 
 must needs murmur, as rising he strolled past his sister : 
 
 " You see, you have learned no more than I." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " DIANE," said Octave, " I really think that you grow 
 prettier as you grow older. " 
 
 Diane, accustomed to admiration as to breath, smiled 
 serenely in reply to this remark ; and, leaning back in a 
 nest of silken cushions on a broad, low couch, regarded her 
 friend appreciatively. 
 
 " You are very pretty yourself, Octave," she observed, 
 with an air of candor. 
 
 " 1 bah !" returned Octave. " I am ordinary, com- 
 monplace : you cannot walk down Eoyal Street without 
 meeting a dozen girls who look like me. But you are re- 
 markable a beauty such as men rave over and artists 
 paint. Ma ch&re, you should not bury yourself on Bayou 
 Teche." 
 
 " It has been very necessary, burying myself on Bayou 
 Teche up to the present time," said Diane simply. " But, 
 now that mamma's debt is paid and her affairs easier, it is 
 possible that we may go into the world a little more."
 
 258 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " You should go to Paris, and Carolus Duran should paint 
 your portrait." 
 
 " Oh !" laughing a little, " that is more than we count 
 upon doing. But it is settled that mamma will take a 
 house in New Orleans next winter, and gather her friends 
 about her again." 
 
 " That is charming news. May I say how glad we all 
 were to hear that she had been able to pay her debt? 
 Diane ! how could you have run the risk you did in prom- 
 ising to marry that dreadful man if she had not been able 
 to pay it ?" 
 
 " It was not a risk but a certainty," said Diane quietly. 
 " I should undoubtedly have married him, had no means 
 of payment been found ; for it was the only way to save the 
 home for mamma, grand^m^rt, the girls. But it is a mis- 
 take to say that I promised. Mamma would not allow me 
 to promise ; she only said that the offer would be taken into 
 consideration. She did not want to say as much as that, 
 but I made her do so." 
 
 Octave clasped her hands and looked up towards the 
 ceiling. 
 
 " You are a heroine !" she exclaimed. 
 
 " No," replied Diane, with the same absolute simplicity. 
 " It was a thing that in my mind did not admit of a ques- 
 tion. People say now that it is not a girl's duty to sacri- 
 fice herself and her own inclinations for others ; that she 
 should say to her parents, ' Go, starve, suffer, do what you 
 will : I shall not give up my chance of happiness and love 
 for your sake. ' But it seems to me that is only another 
 name for selfishness. When one can do something and 
 has the opportunity to do it but once in a lifetime for 
 those one loves, those who have done all in their power for 
 one's self, I think a girl is bound to remember that there
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 259 
 
 is one thing better and higher than love and happiness in 
 the world, and that is doing one's duty." 
 
 '' But the need must be great, Diane, to justify such a 
 sacrifice. ' ' 
 
 " Ah, cela va sans dire ! Only extreme need will justify 
 it not merely wishes based on cupidity or ambition. But 
 our need was very great. If you could know the long 
 agony of the struggle I have witnessed if you could know 
 how I have prayed for the opportunity to help poor mam- 
 ma you would not think I could hesitate when the chance 
 came. Yet, after all, it was Yvonne wht) saved her and 
 me not I." 
 
 " Yvonne !" Octave stared. " Why, what had Yvonne 
 to do with it ? I thought I heard that your mother re- 
 covered some money which had been supposed lost " 
 
 " That" (hastily) " is true. I only meant that Yvonne 
 happened to find the papers and managed the affair. She 
 is so clever and so brave, you know." 
 
 " Yes," assented Octave, but this time absently ; for she 
 suddenly remembered Atherton and the mysterious De 
 Marsillac. Now was her opportunity to question Diane 
 and find out whatever was to be learned regarding this per- 
 son. " I must not forget to tell you," she said quickly, 
 " that there is some one here who desires very much to see 
 you a gentleman, a stranger in New Orleans." 
 
 " To see me ! Why ?" 
 
 " In order that he may inform you that he has lately 
 met in the West Indies, I believe a person calling him- 
 self De Marsillac, and claiming to represent Diane, 
 
 what is the matter ?" 
 
 Diane had sprung from her cushions and sat upright, 
 with the color suddenly gone from her rose-leaf cheeks and 
 her eyes opened widely in consternation.
 
 260 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 "Who is this man?" she asked, or rather gasped. 
 " What is his name ?" 
 
 " His name is Atherton. He is rather an agreeable per- 
 son, considering that he is said to be a millionaire ; and 
 
 Diane, what is the matter ? Do you know him ?" 
 
 " No, I never saw him," replied Diane hastily ; " but I 
 know something of him. And I don't wish to meet him. 
 In fact, rather than meet him, I would go home at once." 
 
 " Going home would not help you," said Octave, who 
 was greatly astonished and intensely curious. " For he is 
 so anxious to solve the mystery of the De Marsillac whom 
 he met, and also to communicate to a member of your fam- 
 ily some important intelligence affecting your interest 
 which he possesses, that I think he would have gone to 
 Bayou Teche to see your mother, if he had not learned 
 that you were coming here." 
 
 Then was seen the almost unprecedented spectacle of 
 Diane in a passion. Color flamed into her cheeks and light 
 flashed from her eyes as she stamped her foot upon the 
 floor. 
 
 " How dare he be so intrusive, so interfering !" she 
 cried. " What concern is it of his who the De Marsillac 
 was, or how our interest is affected ? Oh, how I detest 
 meddlers and and busy-bodies !" 
 
 " Then you know this De Marsillac?" asked the young 
 girl, forgetting that questions so direct are not permitted 
 by the code of good manners. 
 
 Diane looked at her for a moment in silence a moment 
 in which she seemed to hesitate how much to say or leave 
 unsaid. Then : 
 
 " Yes, I know him," she replied. " But I will not 
 answer any questions of a presumptuous stranger about 
 him."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 261 
 
 " But I am not a presumptuous stranger ; and you will 
 tell me who he is, will you not for papa says that there is 
 no De Marsillac living ?" 
 
 " Your father is mistaken," said Diane proudly. " We 
 are De Marsillacs. We have a right to bear the name if 
 we choose. I like the Spanish fashion of bearing the names 
 of both parents. If we were Spanish, we should call our- 
 selves Prevost y De Marsillac." 
 
 " True, but this man whom Mr. Atherton met is not one 
 of you, so how has he the right ?" 
 
 " In the same manner that we have." 
 
 "But papa says " 
 
 Again the girl stamped her foot in uncontrollable impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " Your father does not know everything that possibly is 
 to be known about our family," she said. "I do not 
 choose to enter into our genealogical history for the bene- 
 fit of Mr. Atherton. It is enough to say that I know the 
 person of whom he speaks, and that I decline to gratify his 
 curiosity respecting him." 
 
 Octave was silent for a moment, so much was she aston- 
 ished by this strange heat and vehemence in one usually so 
 gentle and placid as Diane. What could it mean ? Who 
 could the person be concerning whom she showed such in- 
 terest and excitement ? The recollection of her brother's 
 fears and suspicions recurred to Octave. Was the man in- 
 deed some mysterious lover ? 
 
 " Diane," she said gravely, "tell me only one thing : 
 are you bound in any way to this person ?' ' 
 
 " Bound ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Oh" (impatiently), " you know what I mean ! Is he 
 your lover ? Have you perhaps pledged yourself to marry him 
 as you were ready to pledge yourself to marry Burnham ?'
 
 202 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Diane stared for a moment, as if the idea thus suggested 
 was so amazing as to require a little time for taking it in ; 
 and then she astonished Octave still further by falling back 
 on her cushions in a paroxysm of almost hysterical laugh- 
 ter. Now, to see any one laugh convulsively, uncontrol- 
 lably, without possessing the faintest conception of the 
 cause of the merriment, is somewhat trying to most peo- 
 ple ; and Octave was no exception to the general rule. She 
 regarded Diane in silence for a minute or two, and then 
 spoke stiffly : 
 
 ' ' I have been fortunate in amusing you. But I really 
 fail to see what there is so exceedingly ridiculous in the 
 question I asked. You have had lovers many of them, I 
 believe ; and you were ready to pledge yourself to marry 
 Burnham." 
 
 "You know why," said Diane, sitting up again and 
 wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. ' ' But there 
 is nothing of the kind in this case. The person of whom 
 Mr. Atherton talks has indeed done us a great service, but 
 he asks no reward for it. ' ' 
 
 " That is not saying that he does not hope for one," re- 
 turned Octave suspiciously. " Diane, I believe I really 
 believe that you are in love with him." 
 
 " I have a great affection for him," said Diane ; " but it 
 is absurd to talk of being in love in the sense you mean." 
 
 " Why is it absurd ? Mr. Atherton says that he is 
 young, agreeable, a gentleman Diane, how can you laugh 
 in that manner when you know that I am so concerned ? 
 Because if you are bound to any one else it would break 
 Adrien's heart." 
 
 " Oh, no !" said Diane but she ceased to laugh, and 
 her blush was beautiful to see " it would not break his 
 heart. Men's hearts are very elastic, shall we say ? But
 
 THE MAK OF THE FAMILY. 263 
 
 there need be no question of the kind ; for I am certainly 
 not bound to any one." 
 
 "And you will not tell me who is this De Marsillac, 
 whom papa and Adrien and Mr. Atherton have decided 
 must be an impostor ?" 
 
 " An impostor !" If Diane's blush had been beautiful, 
 her wrath was now splendid to see. " How dare they make 
 such a charge against one of whom they know nothing on 
 the word of a prying, meddling stranger !" she cried. " I 
 said that I would not see Mr. Atherton ; but I will see 
 him, in order to tell him, once for all, that we know the 
 De Marsillac whom he met, that we acknowledge his claim 
 upon us and his right to do all that he did, and that to 
 utter the word ' impostor ' in connection with him is is 
 an offence and an insult to all of us." 
 
 " Diane !" Octave simply collapsed into the depths of 
 her chair. " I don't know you," she murmured. " I 
 never saw you so excited before. There is no good in deny- 
 ing it you must be in love with the man." 
 
 It was a little after this that Adrien Varigny found an 
 opportunity to ask his sister if she had mentioned to Diane 
 that Atherton wished to give her some information which 
 might be of importance to her family. 
 
 " Yes," Octave replied, " I have told her ; and I think 
 Mr. Atherton will find himself snubbed as it has perhaps 
 never been his fortune to be snubbed before, when he 
 begins to talk to her of the mysterious De Marsillac." 
 
 " Why ?" asked her brother, startled. " Does she know 
 the fellow ?" 
 
 " Very well, apparently ; and deeply resents his having 
 been called an impostor. She declares that he is no im- 
 postor, but has as much right to bear the name of De Mar- 
 sillac as the Prevosts would have, did they choose to do so."
 
 264 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Then we have all been mistaken, and there is another 
 branch of the family ?" 
 
 "So it would appear ; but she is so far like Mr. Ather- 
 ton that she talks in riddles. This De Marsillac must cer- 
 tainly be very mysterious since he inspires so much mystery 
 in others." 
 
 " He is a mystery," said Varigny. " I do not under- 
 stand at all who he can be, or how he is connected with 
 them ; and still less how his doings have been able to affect 
 their interest. Has Diane given you no information on 
 these points ?" 
 
 "Absolutely none at all. She only denies that she is 
 bound to him in any way ; in fact, she went into paroxysms 
 of laughter when I asked the question." 
 
 " Paroxysms of laughter ! That does not sound like 
 Diane." 
 
 " Nothing that she said or did was like Diane. You 
 didn't suppose she could fall into a passion, did you ? 
 But she was simply furious over what she called Mr. Ather- 
 ton's meddling interference." 
 
 " In that case," answered De Varigny gravely, " I had 
 better tell Mr. Atherton that it is unnecessary for him to 
 volunteer information which is so entirely undesired. The 
 matter is no concern of his ; and I think he is enough of a 
 gentleman to drop it when he learns that Miss Prevost does 
 not wish to hear anything that he has to say." 
 
 "Yes," observed Octave meditatively, "that will be 
 best. Tell him that the family know De Marsillac, ac- 
 knowledge him as a connection, and endorse all that he has 
 done whatever that may be. This is what Diane said that 
 she would tell him, and I think it covers the case." 
 
 " Very completely," replied Varigny. He rose and took 
 up his hat as he spoke. " So completely," he went on,
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 265 
 
 " that it will silence me as well as Atherton. I do not like 
 mysteries especially mysteries connected with men whom 
 no one knows, and with money. The conjunction looks 
 badly. Until Miss Prevost chooses to honor her friends 
 with her confidence, her friends can do nothing but imi- 
 tate her reticence in all respects." 
 
 " Papa will be certain to question her on the subject," 
 said Octave hopefully ; for her curiosity was so much ex- 
 cited that the policy of reticence by no means commended 
 itself to her. 
 
 " I will request him not to do so," said her brother. 
 " The subject shall not be mentioned again unless Diane 
 chooses to open it voluntarily." 
 
 " And if she never does ?" 
 
 " Then for me it is closed forever." 
 
 And with these words he left the room 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 So it came to pass that Diane heard no more of the in- 
 formation Mr. Atherton desired to afford her ; and that 
 gentleman found himself unexpectedly checked, as if by a 
 dead-wall, when Adrien Varigny ceremoniously told him 
 that Miss Prevost was perfectly cognizant both of the exist- 
 ence and the doings of the De Marsillac whom he had met, 
 and therefore any communication which he had thought of 
 making to her was unnecessary. 
 
 "I am sure you will pardon me for also suggesting," 
 added the young Creole, " that, since this is the case, it will 
 be best to drop the subject, as far as any inquiries for this 
 person in New Orleans are concerned."
 
 266 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " In other words, to respect the mystery of the family," 
 said Atherton, smiling slightly. " You need have no fear. 
 I will make no further inquiries. It is very evident now 
 that it is not, as I was inclined to suspect, a case of impos- 
 ture and robbery ; but that it is a family secret, with which 
 no stranger has a right to interfere." 
 
 " It is at least a subject upon which they have a right to 
 be reticent if they please." 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; and which has, therefore, lost interest 
 for me. Why they should make a mystery of what they 
 had a perfect right to do is their own affair, and I shall give 
 it no further thought." 
 
 In saying this the speaker not only promised, as many of 
 us often do, more than he was able to perform, but he also 
 supplied much food for thought to Varigny. " Make a 
 mystery of what they had a perfect right to do." These 
 words rang in the young man's mind ; and, though he 
 would have disdained to ask an explanation in fact, it is 
 doubtful whether he would have listened to an explanation 
 had Atherton volunteered one it was impossible not to 
 ask himself what was meant. What had they a perfect 
 right to do ? What was it that had been done for them 
 by this mysterious De Marsillac, in whose behalf even 
 Diane the gentle was roused to passion ? 
 
 There is nothing which has such power to change and 
 absorb a man as a question like this, which he is continu- 
 ally asking himself and which he has no power to answer. 
 Diane was not long in perceiving a great difference in 
 Varigny. He was all that courtesy demanded he should be 
 in his father's house, and to his sister's guest, but he was 
 no more. The pervading attention, the absorption in her- 
 self, the constant homage of look and manner even more 
 than of word to which she had been accustomed from him
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 267 
 
 these things were absent. At home he was silent and 
 apparently preoccupied ; in society he drew back and al- 
 lowed other men to surround her. There was no lack of 
 other men ; but, first with wonder and then with a grow- 
 ing pang, Diane recognized that the only man for whose 
 attention she cared no longer cared to bestow that attention 
 upon her. 
 
 It was singular, perhaps, that she did not connect this 
 change with the mystery which in her conversation with 
 Octave she had left unsolved. But Diane possessed no 
 great power of imagination. She had attached no impor- 
 tance to her own refusal to satisfy the curiosity of her 
 friend or to answer Atherton's inquiries. She had been 
 greatly relieved that the latter had not appeared to press 
 his inquiries in person, and that the Varignys had abstained 
 from questions which it would have been difficult to an- 
 swer ; but she never for a moment thought of connecting 
 the marked change in Adrien with her own silence on a 
 subject which she would have said did not concern him 
 at all. 
 
 How much the change in him concerned her, however, 
 she felt daily more and more. With what a light heart she 
 had come to New Orleans, relieved from the strain of finan- 
 cial trouble, and from the terrible possibility of having to 
 sacrifice herself to the obnoxious Burnham ; free to take 
 up her what shall one call it ? Flirtation is too vulgar, 
 love affair too serious a term to characterize what had ex- 
 isted between Adrien Varigny and herself. It had been 
 impalpable as a perfume, but as exquisite, tender, delicate ; 
 the first dawn of an attraction that needed only oppor- 
 tunity to broaden into the full glow of love. Diane had 
 whispered no articulate hopes to her heart as she sped on 
 her way towards New Orleans ; but she had been filled with
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 a sense of delightful expectation of something indefinite, 
 yet certain as the coming of spring, the opening of flow- 
 ers, the advance of roseate morning. And now suddenly a 
 strange frost came into the air a strange bar to all ad- 
 vance. What was it ? "Were men indeed so fickle ? Had 
 Adrien forgotten all that he seemed to feel when they last 
 met ? Poor Diane, waking to a knowledge of how little 
 she had forgotten, asked herself these questions, but found 
 no answer to them. 
 
 And then, even in her sweet nature, something like re- 
 sentment roused. Was it necessary for him to indicate so 
 plainly that he had changed ? Need he be so distant ? 
 Need he, who last winter had claimed every moment of her 
 society which he possibly could, now draw aside and leave 
 her to others in a manner so marked ? She lifted her 
 graceful head with pride, even if her lip quivered, as she 
 said these things to herself ; and, while it was not possible 
 for any one to be less of a coquette, there is not perhaps a 
 woman living who would not, for the pang of wounded 
 feeling and wounded pride at her heart, have smiled a little 
 more sweetly on those who thronged around her to take 
 the place of the one who had withdrawn. 
 
 Matters were in this state during the crowded, gayety- 
 filled days of the Carnival, in which New Orleans excels all 
 other cities of the world. Indeed, the true Carnival spirit 
 survives here alone, whatever fictitious attempts may be 
 made to revive it elsewhere. Mardi Gras in New Orleans 
 means not only gorgeous processions, magnificent scenic 
 displays, but the abounding mirth of all classes of the 
 population a casting aside of the cares of life ; a return, 
 as it were, to the Golden Age of childlike enjoyment for 
 this brief period. And during these scenes, on Mardi 
 Gras itself, when Canal Street is thronged from wall to
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 269 
 
 wall with masks and revellers, the playful fooling never be- 
 comes disorder ; the whole city gives itself up to mirth, 
 but the mirth does not degenerate into license. It was this 
 which struck Atherton most as he sat, on that famous day, 
 in the window of the club where his cousin had introduced 
 him, and looked over the gay and motley throng which 
 filled the street before him. 
 
 " This is the genuine thing," he said to Langdon, who 
 sat beside him ; " this is the Carnival. In other places its 
 attempted celebration is either a dismal failure for more 
 and more are the people of the world forgetting what mirth 
 is or it becomes a mere spectacle : a parade at which the 
 populace stare, but in which they take no part. Here, 
 however, it is the Carnival of the people. This scene car- 
 ries one back to Carnivals in the Rome and Naples of the 
 past. There is nothing perfunctory or make-believe in the 
 gayety of these maskers ; and their pranks are to me better 
 worth seeing than even the gorgeous procession of Rex." 
 
 " Rex's procession wasn't bad," observed Langdon, with 
 the moderation of one who had witnessed many Carnivals. 
 " In fact, it was expected to be better than usual this year, 
 because Harvey who is Rex, you know is not only a very 
 rich man, but a man of great taste. By the bye, 1 suppose 
 you have heard who is to be his queen ?" 
 
 " Not I. Names are merely names to me here, you 
 know. My acquaintance is very limited. " 
 
 " That" (in an injured tone) " is your own fault, I am 
 sure. You might know everybody, if you would, and be 
 fited to your heart's content. "We are not more fond of 
 millionaires than our neighbors perhaps not quite so fond 
 but we appreciate them, nevertheless ; and are quite 
 ready to kill our fatted calves for them. But you will not 
 eat the fatted calf after it has been killed."
 
 270 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Perhaps I have been surfeited with fatted calves, and 
 would prefer to be distinguished in some other manner 
 than by the ticket ' millionaire. ' Not that I go in for 
 cheap cynicism on the subject of the world's worship of 
 wealth. But I am not fond of profiting by it. Besides, I 
 did not come here to enter society. " 
 
 " I wonder what you did come for !" thought Langdon ; 
 but he only said aloud : " Of course it's a matter of taste ; 
 but there are a good many people here who would like to 
 meet you, and whom I think you would enjoy knowing. 
 You must certainly look in on the balls to-night, however. 
 Rex's ball will be a magnificent affair. As I began to tell 
 you, he has the most beautiful girl in Louisiana for his 
 queen." 
 
 " Who is she ?" (indifferently). 
 
 " Miss Prevost Diane Prevost. She but what is the 
 matter ? Do you know her ?" 
 
 " No," answered Atherton, who had given a start and 
 glance of awakened interest at the name. " I do not know 
 her at all, but I have heard of her." 
 
 " From the Varignys, I suppose ? She is visiting them. 
 Her family have not been living in New Orleans for some 
 time, but she was here last winter and made a great sensa- 
 tion by her beauty. Adrien Varigny was considered to be 
 first favorite then, but this season he has rather lost his 
 place ; and Harvey, who is desperately in love with her, is 
 making the best running. I'd like you to see her. She is 
 not of the ordinary Creole type." 
 
 " I chance to admire that type very much." 
 
 " You can't fail to admire Diane Prevost, and sh^ will 
 be a sight worth seeing in royal robes to-night. I wonder" 
 (with a laugh) " what Burnham will think of her ?" 
 
 " And who is Burnham ?"
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 271 
 
 " A young cad whose father has made a great deal of 
 money, and who has therefore crept into the outskirts of 
 good society. The story runs that, seeing Miss Prevost 
 last winter, he was deeply smitten ; and, being unable to 
 approach her in any other manner, induced his father 
 who held a mortgage on Madame Prevost's estate to offer 
 him as a suitor, threatening to close the mortgage at once 
 if he was refused. Details of the result are not clearly 
 known. However, it is said that Miss Prevost took into 
 consideration sacrificing herself, but that somebody or 
 something came to her rescue. At all events, the debt was 
 paid in money, not in flesh and blood ; and Miss Prevost 
 is here in more brilliant beauty than ever, to be the Queen 
 of the Carnival." 
 
 " I have heard a story something like that before in a 
 dream perhaps," said Atherton quietly. " In my story 
 the girl's brother obtained her ransom by a rather wild ad- 
 venture/' 
 
 " It was not this story" (very positively) ; "for there 
 is no brother in the case. Miss Prevost has none." 
 
 " Then, of course, she is not the heroine of my story. 
 There is a sufficient similarity, however, to induce me to 
 take the trouble of seeing her ; so you may count on me 
 for Kex's ball to-night." 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 REX'S ball was indeed a very magnificent affair ; and 
 Rex himself, an extremely good-looking young man, was a 
 very imposing figure, in his royal attire. But he and his 
 brilliant court were alike thrown into the shade by the
 
 272 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 dazzling beauty of the stately presence which stood beside 
 him as queen. Dress, which is becoming to every one, was 
 becoming to Diane in superlative degree ; and it is doubt- 
 ful if a lovelier sovereign ever smiled upon the mimic pomp 
 of a Carnival or the real splendor of a court. The costume 
 which she wore was carefully copied from the period which 
 her appearance strikingly suggested, and she seemed to have 
 stepped direct from Versailles in the days of the Grande 
 Monarque, or from the frame of some ancient portrait 
 hanging upon its walls. Her robe of shining white-and- 
 gold brocade, trimmed with priceless lace the chief treas- 
 ure which adverse fortune had spared to Madame de Mar- 
 sillac was fashioned in the mode of that by-gone court. 
 About the rounded whiteness of her fair neck was clasped a 
 rivibre of diamonds splendid enough for a queen ; while 
 above the luxuriant masses of her sunny hair coifed high, 
 but unpowdered rested a crown of diamond stars, which 
 flashed with every motion of the graceful head. 
 
 " Isn't she superb ?" said Langdon in a tone of intense 
 admiration, as Atherton and himself came in view of this 
 radiant figure. " There's not a woman to compare to her 
 here to-night, and indeed one would have to go far to find 
 one. Did you ever see a more striking resemblance to 
 many of the famous court beauties of the past ?" 
 
 "I never did," Atherton answered very sincerely. 
 " The type is wonderfully preserved. Some of those beau- 
 ties must have been among her immediate ancestors." 
 And as he spoke he recalled the miniature of Yvonne 
 d'Aulnay, at which he had looked in the brilliant tropical 
 moonlight, and of which a well-remembered voice had 
 cried, " Diane looks like it !" 
 
 And Diane did look like it marvellously, wonderfully 
 like it. In her present attire she might have been thought
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. . 273 
 
 its original ; and the last doubt which Atherton had enter- 
 tained of her being the identical Diane of whom he had 
 heard so much was finally and altogether dissipated. 
 
 " Well," Langdon remarked, " I must go and offer her 
 my homage. You will come and be introduced ?' ' 
 
 Atherton assenting, they made their way to the da'is 
 where the mimic court was assembled. Before the splen- 
 did young figure which was its centre, Langdon made his 
 obeisance ; and then, drawing aside, said : 
 
 " Your Majesty will graciously allow me to present to 
 you my cousin, Mr. Atherton." 
 
 Ah ! Diane, Diane, was it not in your power to re- 
 strain that start, which had in it something of terror, and 
 that glance of dismay as the tall figure of the stranger 
 bowed before you ? Happily no one noticed either except 
 the stranger himself. But he must have had eyes in the 
 top of the blond head which he bent so low ; for even be- 
 fore he raised it he knew what he should see : he knew 
 that he should encounter just that look in the lovely, 
 startled eyes which met his own a look at once apprehen- 
 sive and unconsciously appealing. 
 
 The appeal touched him ; for he perceived now what a 
 very charming as well as beautiful face it was into which 
 he looked a face so sweet that to see it was to be fasci- 
 nated by it. And he remembered that this, too, had been 
 said to him : " Everybody loves Diane. Young and old, 
 rich and poor, white and black she fascinates every one. " 
 He remembered how he had listened with a smile, and now 
 he felt and saw that it was true. No one could resist the 
 charm of this lovely countenance, on which was plainly to 
 be read the stamp of a nature gentle and guileless as that 
 of a child. In the deception which had been practised 
 upon him he could not believe that she had any part, or at
 
 274 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 least any blame. But she evidently knew enough of it to 
 fear some revelation from him ; and, anxious to relieve her 
 apprehension, he spoke at once : 
 
 " Your Majesty is kind enough, I am told, to welcome 
 strangers to the court of your Carnival. You will allow 
 me, then, as a stranger, to express my delight at all that I 
 have witnessed ; and to hope that I may have the honor to 
 shall I be mediaeval enough to say ' tread a measure ' 
 with your Majesty in the course of the evening, so that 
 I may the more happily enshrine the occasion in my 
 memory." 
 
 He purposely made his speech long, in order to give her 
 time to recover herself ; and fanciful, in order to reassure 
 her. Meanwhile his eyes were fastened on her, so that he 
 saw the quick rise and fall of the diamonds on her bosom 
 those diamonds, in their antique setting, which he had held 
 in his hand in the garden of Millefleurs, and had fancied 
 clasped around just such a white young throat as that 
 which they now encircled. In answer to his last words, 
 she murmured something inaudible and held out her ball- 
 card. He glanced over the list ; and seeing only one num- 
 ber vacant, placed his initials against it. Then, returning 
 the bit of pasteboard with a bow of thanks, he was forced 
 to draw aside to make room for others. 
 
 " I am sorry I came," he said to himself as he walked 
 away. " I fear I have spoiled this girl's pleasure in the 
 evening. She is no actress that's certain ; for what a 
 look of recognition and apprehension there was in her eyes 
 when she saw me ! I would like to have an opportunity to 
 reassure her to let her know she has nothing to dread from 
 me. But that is impossible, surrounded as she is at pres- 
 ent. I must wait until our dance is due, and I only hope 
 she may be able to put me out of her mind until she sees
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 275 
 
 me again. Why did I ever come here and mix myself up 
 with these people ? What possible concern was it of mine 
 who Henri de Marsillac might be, or what right he had to 
 the treasure he carried off ? I am rightly served for my 
 quixotry, both on the island and here, by the dismay and 
 fear with which that girl regarded me." 
 
 Pricking himself with the memory of her look, he found 
 little interest in the scene around him, however well merit- 
 ing the epithets with which the reporters of the press would 
 characterize it in the morning papers. A floor of glass, 
 perfect music, lavish decoration, beautiful faces and beau- 
 tiful toilettes each and all had long since ceased to have 
 any intoxicating effect upon him, even if his mind had not 
 been occupied with other thoughts. Hence the young 
 ladies to whom he was introduced found him disappoint- 
 ing ; and, notwithstanding the aroma of millions which 
 surrounded him, were not sorry when his perfunctory dances 
 with them were over and they could turn to more agree- 
 able, if less heavily gilded, partners. And, ungallant as 
 the admission writes him down, there is no doubt the relief 
 was mutual ; since the only event of the evening to which 
 he looked forward with the least interest was his promised 
 dance with Diane. 
 
 The time for this seemed to him very long in arriving ; 
 and it is possible that his interest might have waned before 
 it did arrive had it not been stimulated now and then by a 
 vision of Diane, like some princess out of a fairy tale pre- 
 siding over the revels of the gay throng. The very gleam 
 of her diamonds had a fascination for him, linked as they 
 were with the memory of the distant, blood-stained island 
 where they had been found, and the mystery of the boy 
 who had vanished out of his life. At length, as all things 
 come to him who has patience to wait for them, he found
 
 276 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 himself again bowing before her, saying deferentially, 
 " This, I believe, is our dance, if your Majesty is good 
 enough to remember it," and walking away with the radi- 
 ant figure on his arm. 
 
 It need scarcely be said that there was no thought of 
 dancing in the mind of either, although the most seductive 
 strains of the orchestra were ringing through the ball-room. 
 A quick glance showed Atherton that a corridor without 
 was almost entirely deserted ; and that a small apartment 
 at the end thereof a luxurious retreat, all foliage and soft- 
 toned lamps and pleasantly placed seats, carefully arranged 
 for purposes of repose and flirtation might be counted on 
 to be empty. He turned and looked at his companion. 
 
 " Do you care to dance ?" he asked, speaking with defer- 
 ence, but dropping the tone of fanciful homage he had be- 
 fore employed. " It strikes me that you may be tired and 
 would perhaps prefer to sit out this waltz. If so, do not 
 hesitate on my account. I am by no means fond of danc- 
 ing, and I shall be glad of an opportunity to improve our 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " I am a little tired," replied Diane tremulously. " It 
 is not easy to dance in a court train. I think I would 
 prefer to sit out this dance, if we can find a quiet place." 
 
 " That is easily found," he said, and led her down the 
 plant-decorated corridor to the room at its farther end. 
 
 This they found so far empty that only one pair of per- 
 sons, engaged manifestly in a deep flirtation, occupied a 
 palm-shaded corner. These gazed disapprovingly at the 
 intruders, until, finding that the latter had no intention of 
 retiring, but, on the contrary, calmly established them- 
 selves in another corner, they presently rose and sauntered 
 slowly away towards the ball-room. It was when this event 
 occurred that Diane, breaking in on some rather absent-
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 277 
 
 minded remarks which Atherton was making, turned 
 abruptly towards him. 
 
 " Mr. Atherton," she said quickly, " I cannot endure 
 for you to believe as you must at present believe that we 
 are unmindful of all that we owe you. Don't think us 
 ignorant of it ; don't think us ungrateful for it ! We know 
 and feel it more than we can say. It is with all of us writ- 
 ten here" she laid her hand on her heart " and will 
 never be forgotten." 
 
 This was so different from anything that Atherton had 
 anticipated the eager impulsiveness of the speech and the 
 spontaneous acknowledgment of indebtedness took him so 
 much by surprise that for an instant he did not reply. 
 He looked steadily at the beautiful face, all alive with feel- 
 ing, as if admiring its charm or sounding its sincerity ; and 
 then said calmly : 
 
 " May I ask, Miss Prevost, to whom you allude as 
 ' we ' ?" 
 
 She flushed deeply ; but her eyes still met his own, frank 
 and innocent as those of a child. 
 
 "I allude," she said, "to my family my mother all 
 of us. We know that but for your assistance the venture 
 which saved us from ruin could never have been success- 
 fully accomplished." 
 
 He bowed. " You do me too much honor," he answered. 
 " I speak with sincerity when I say that I am glad to 
 have served you glad that so much was true of the story 
 which moved me : that there was ruin to be averted from 
 one like yourself, and that I was able to assist in avert- 
 ing it." 
 
 " Do you mean," she cried, as if stung by his words, 
 " that you doubt any of the story which was told you ? 
 You do injustice great injustice to one who does not de-
 
 278 THE MAN OP THE FAMILY. 
 
 serve it. Believe me, the person who told it you would 
 never utter an untruth." 
 
 " Indeed ! How, then, am I to reconcile the statement 
 of this person that his name was De Marsillac and that he 
 was your brother, with the equally positive statement of 
 your friends that there is no De Marsillac living and that 
 you have no brother ?" 
 
 She looked at him for an instant without speaking, the 
 lovely color dying out of her cheeks, and her eyes seeming 
 to plead against the sternness of his words ; and then she 
 said in a low voice : 
 
 " It must seem very strange to you, and I cannot ex- 
 plain ; but both statements are true." 
 
 " Both, Miss Prevost ? That is a bold assertion.'* 
 
 " It is a bold assertion I know that ; but it is true. 
 The person whom you know has a perfect right to call 
 himself De Marsillac, and he has been a brother in every 
 sense to me." 
 
 " I think," he said coldly, " that you are playing with 
 words. But it does not matter. It is no concern of mine 
 who has or has not a right to call himself De Marsillac, 
 and far less whom you consider ' a brother in every sense.' 
 I am glad, however, that you have opened the subject of a 
 mystery upon which I had no intention of touching, be- 
 cause it allows me to explain how I have chanced to inter- 
 fere with it at all. Briefly, then : I was not only foolish 
 enough to be both wounded and indignant when a boy for 
 whom I had conceived a liking which amounted to 
 attachment, and which I fancied was returned on his 
 part " 
 
 " It was, it was !" Diane interrupted earnestly. 
 " Threw me aside and vanished with a melodramatic 
 farewell into mystery ; but I began to ask myself if I had
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 279 
 
 not been lending my aid to imposture and possibly rob- 
 bery." 
 
 " Mr. Atherton !" 
 
 " Do the words shock yon ? What else could I think ? 
 I have seen much of the world, but I have never yet found 
 an honest man who veiled in mystery transactions in which 
 there was no disgrace. The whole thing looked to me very 
 suspicious ; and, besides being the dupe of a clever impos- 
 tor, I had no mind to be his unconscious accomplice. As 
 soon, therefore, as I received a letter from him of which, 
 since you know so much, you may have heard I left Santo 
 Domingo for Cuba, and thence came here, determined to 
 discover if such a person as Henri de Marsillac really exist- 
 ed. I was speedily assured on all sides that he did not 
 exist, that no one of the name was known in Louisiana, 
 and that your family alone represented the De Marsillacs 
 of the past. It seemed then 'my duty to inform some rep- 
 resentative of your family of what had been done in Hayti. 
 To my inquiries as to how this could best be accomplished, 
 I was informed that you would soon be in New Orleans, 
 and that I could make my communication to you. This I 
 was resolved to do until I heard from Mr. Varigny that 
 you did not desire to receive any communication on the 
 subject. Such a decision relieved me at once from all re- 
 sponsibility in the matter ; and from that time to this I 
 have had no intention of approaching or addressing you on 
 the subject. But to-night" he paused a moment 
 " to-night I read, or thought I read, in your eyes an ap- 
 prehension. And this I felt bound to dissipate. I felt 
 bound to tell you that you have nothing to fear from 
 me." 
 
 " What could I have to fear from you, Mr. Atherton?" 
 asked Diane proudly, her crowned head lifted high.
 
 280 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " That you alone can answer," replied Atherton. " Be- 
 lieve me I have no desire to press any inquiry into your 
 mystery, or even to speculate why none of your friends 
 know of the existence of the man who found the treasure 
 of your ancestor. I am only glad to see that a part at least 
 of that treasure has come into rightful hands" he looked 
 directly at the diamonds "and 1 have no intention of 
 taking any one into my confidence with regard to what I 
 accidentally witnessed and knew. I fancied that you 
 might like to have this assurance, which is my excuse for 
 touching upon the subject." 
 
 She was again silent for a moment before answering, and 
 then she said : 
 
 " I do not deny that I am glad to be assured that you 
 will not continue to make inquiries which can only annoy 
 and embarrass us. Nobody but ourselves nobody at all 
 was, or is, concerned in the finding of what you call the 
 treasure of our ancestor. Have we not, then, a perfect 
 right to maintain any mystery that we like regarding it ? 
 That mystery conceals nothing wrong so much I assure 
 you and has but one drawback of which I know : its 
 seeming ingratitude towards yourself." 
 
 " That," he said, "is of no importance at all. In any 
 inquiry which I have made, nothing was further from my 
 mind than any thought of myself." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," she replied earnestly ; " but 
 the fact remains that this apparent ingratitude has been a 
 matter of great concern to all of us, and a positive grief to 
 one. I should like you to believe this." 
 
 " Do not press my powers of credulity too far, Miss Pr6- 
 vost," he said quietly. "Since you assure me that the 
 mystery hides nothing wrong, it is difficult for a plain man 
 to see a reason for its existence, and quite impossible for
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 281 
 
 him to believe in regret on the part of any one for conduct 
 which had no necessity to justify it." 
 
 " I did not say that /" cried she quickly. " I did not 
 say there was no necessity to justify it for there is such a 
 necessity. I only said that it concealed nothing wrong, 
 and that we have a right to preserve a mystery if we like 
 about our own affairs." 
 
 " It is a right which I, for one, have not the least inten- 
 tion of challenging," he replied gravely. " If you will 
 allow me to repeat my apologies for having ever touched 
 upon the subject at all, and my earnest assurance that I 
 shall not do so again, we will consider it closed. There is, 
 however, one thing which I should like you to do for me, 
 in acknowledgment, let us say, of the small part I played 
 in recovering the jewels which at present adorn you ; and 
 that is" to her great surprise he drew a ring from his fin- 
 ger " to give this, as I suppose you are able to do, to the 
 person who called himself Henri de Marsillac ; saying from 
 me that, since the friendship of which it was to be a token 
 has evidently no longer an existence on his side, I, on my 
 side, must decline so keep his trinket longer. " 
 
 Diane, who had evidently never heard of the ring be- 
 fore, stared at it in helpless dismay. 
 
 " Did he give you that?" she asked. " Was it one of 
 the jewels you found ?" 
 
 " It was one of those jewels. To gratify him I consent- 
 ed to keep it as a remembrance of an adventure which I 
 now wish to forget. Will you, therefore, oblige me so far 
 as to return it to him ?" 
 
 " I cannot I dare not !" said Diane, shrinking back 
 from the ring which he offered. " Mr. Atherton, don't 
 ask it of me ! It you don't know it would break his 
 heart."
 
 282 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Atherton smiled incredulously. " Will you try the 
 effect?" he said dryly. "I have little faith in broken 
 hearts. ' ' 
 
 "I think you have but little faith in anything," an- 
 swered Diane with sudden spirit. " You certainly have not 
 any in a person who deserves better thoughts from you." 
 
 " How has he proved that he deserves them ? By deser- 
 tion, by silence, by utter lack of faith in me but this is 
 folly ! What" (sternly) " have I to do with your mystery 
 or your jewels ! Take the ring, Miss Prevost. It is yours, 
 if those diamonds which you wear are yours." 
 
 " It is not mine," said Diane, putting her hands behind 
 her ; " and I will not take it. If the person who gave you 
 that had given you all the jewels, including the diamonds 
 which 1 wear, he would have been clearly within his right ; 
 since but for him and but for you they would never per- 
 haps have seen the light, and certainly never have been 
 beheld by us. Nothing will induce me to take that ring 
 from you, Mr. Atherton ; so it is useless to offer it to me." 
 
 " You refuse absolutely to deliver it with my message ?" 
 
 " I refuse absolutely." 
 
 " Then you will force me to discover the whereabouts of 
 this Henri de Marsillac for myself." 
 
 " If that is a threat," said Diane, " I have nothing to 
 reply further than that it is somewhat out of keeping with 
 your assurances of a moment or two ago." 
 
 " You are right," he said, suddenly recollecting himself. 
 " It is out of keeping with them, and was but an expres- 
 sion of irritation. You will perhaps acknowledge that I 
 have some cause to be irritated." 
 
 " Yes," replied Diane, with unexpected candor. " I do 
 acknowledge it. You have great cause to be irritated, and 
 to judge harshly ; but if you would believe "
 
 THE MA1ST OF THE FAMILY. 283 
 
 " You have already perceived that I am a person of little 
 faith, Miss Prevost," he interposed. " Don't, therefore, 
 try that faith by asking me to believe impossible things. 
 And, to prevent further rudeness on my part, here, I think, 
 comes some one in search of you. It will not do for the 
 queen of the evening to disappear, even for a short time." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT was Varigny who entered, and whose glance around 
 the room showed that he came in search of some one. 
 When he caught sight of Diane, it was at once apparent of 
 whom he was in search ; and when he saw Atherton, it was 
 as plainly perceptible that he had not known who her com- 
 panion would prove to be. He looked surprised, and 
 paused abruptly. An instinct told him that these two peo- 
 ple unable at first to banish all traces of earnestness from 
 their faces had not been talking ball-room platitudes ; 
 and mingled with the sense of intrusion which every one, 
 save the most hopelessly obtuse, feels under such circum- 
 stances, was a pang of jealousy so keen that it made him 
 for an instant forget good manners. Only for an instant, 
 however. His pause was only momentary, and he then 
 came forward with quite perfect courtesy. 
 
 " I was told that I might find you here/' he said, ad- 
 dressing Diane ; "and, since this is our dance, you will 
 pardon me for seeking you. I hope that I do not inter- 
 rupt " 
 
 " Nothing of more importance than a conversation in 
 which everything has been said that there is the least neces- 
 sity to say," answered Diane, rising. "I have thanked
 
 284 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Mr. Atherton for his kind intentions towards us at least, 
 if I have not thanked you before, let me do so now," she 
 added, iurning to that gentleman. " Believe that we 
 deeply appreciate all your kindness." 
 
 Perhaps it was her queenly appearance which lent a 
 queenly grace to these words ; but the smile with which 
 she uttered them wa? that smile of Diane's which all her 
 life had laid hearts low before her, and the memory of its 
 sweetness remained with Atherton like a perfume after she 
 had taken Varigny's arm and moved away. 
 
 But it was natural that its sweetness seemed less irresisti- 
 ble to the man to whom it was not addressed. Varigny 
 had indeed often before seen such smiles bestowed by Diane 
 upon others ; but he had never before been conscious of 
 the anger which now burned within him like a flame. 
 " All your kindness !" What did that mean ? What was 
 meant to be understood under that comprehensive emphasis ? 
 What part had Atherton played in the doings of the myste- 
 rious De Marsillac which resulted in the payment of Ma- 
 dame Prevost's debt? For the first time a flash of the 
 jealous suspicion with which he regarded the unknown man 
 was directed towards Atherton ; for the first time he re- 
 membered the wealth of the latter and his reticence con- 
 cerning all the details of his acquaintance with De Marsil- 
 lac. These suspicions necessarily took no definite form ; 
 but they were enough to feed the fire within him, and to 
 provoke resentment more from the very fact of their vague- 
 ness, which was in itself an offence ; for why should this 
 stranger be admitted to Diane's confidence in a matter 
 from which her oldest friends were excluded ? 
 
 Occupied with these thoughts, he hardly knew how silent 
 he was as they walked down the corridor towards the ball- 
 room ; and had nearly reached the door of this apartment
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 285 
 
 when he suddenly felt how impossible it was to enter and 
 join the flying throng of dancers, while his mind was so 
 disturbed and his heart so sore. 
 
 " You have sat out one dance," he said abruptly, turn- 
 ing to Diane. " Will you give a few minutes from another 
 to me ? I should like, if I may be permitted, to ask you a 
 question. ' ' 
 
 " 1 am not at all anxious to dance," Diane replied quiet- 
 ly. " As I told Mr. Atherton, my train very much inter- 
 feres with my pleasure in dancing. It is one of the penal- 
 ties of royal state." 
 
 " Then we will take another turn," said Varigny, facing 
 around as he spoke to walk again down the length of the 
 corridor. The waves of music rising and falling in the ball- 
 room had, like a spell of enchantment, summoned all but a 
 few couples lingering here and there in shaded recesses ; 
 and the long vista of the gallery, with its palm-lined walls, 
 its glistening floor, along which stretched a broad strip of 
 crimson carpet, and its fanciful lamps, was at this moment 
 entirely deserted. 
 
 Diane felt her heart beating quickly as they turned. 
 What did Adrien wish to say ? Would he explain the 
 change that had come over him ? She still felt a little re- 
 sentful of this change, yet was conscious that only a few 
 words were necessary to sweep away all resentment in a 
 flood of tender and exquisite emotion. After a moment's 
 pause Adrien spoke very stiffly. 
 
 " The question which I wish to ask," he said, " is briefly 
 this : Do you think it wise to admit to your confidence an 
 entire stranger, at the same time that you refuse to explain 
 to your friends a mystery which this stranger has, by his 
 inquiries, made notorious ?' ' 
 
 The tone in which this question was uttered, even more
 
 286 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 than the words themselves, so much astonished Diane that 
 for a moment she was unable to reply. It was absolutely 
 her first intimation, not only that Varigny had given a 
 thought to the subject of which Octave alone had spoken 
 to her, but that any injurious misconception might arise in 
 the mind of any one from the mystery to which he allud- 
 ed. He saw her surprise ; and, since she did not reply, 
 went on in a gentler tone : 
 
 " Is it possible you have not considered this ? Is it pos- 
 sible you have not reflected that both the mystery and the 
 confidence are likely to afford food for such gossip as as 1 
 cannot bear that you should incur ?" 
 
 " No, "said Diane, startled by the tone of the last words, 
 " I have not thought of it. It has not occurred to me that 
 a matter which concerns only ourselves I mean my own 
 family can be of interest to others. We have certainly a 
 right to preserve reticence about our own affairs." 
 
 " A right yes. No one questions that. But do you 
 know the world so little as to imagine that it gossips only 
 of matters into which it has a right to inquire ? On the 
 contrary, it is in the things which do not concern it ihat it 
 takes the deepest interest, and to which it gives its worst 
 interpretations. ' ' 
 
 " But what interpretation could possibly be given to that 
 of which you speak ?" she asked, pausing to regard him 
 with astonished eyes. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 
 
 " How can I tell ?" he answered. " But you may sure- 
 ly see for yourself what a morsel it is for gossip to roll upon 
 its tongue. This man Atherton comes here a stranger (no 
 one knowing anything of him except his reputation for 
 wealth), and inquires on all sides for a non-existent person 
 a De Marsillac, of Louisiana, whom he says that he met.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 287 
 
 He talks of some mysterious transaction in which this per- 
 son has been engaged, which is connected with the pay- 
 ment of your mother's indebtedness, and he expresses a de- 
 sire to see you as soon as you arrive, to give information on 
 some point deeply affecting your interest ' ' 
 
 " I have told him," interposed Diane, " that his infor- 
 mation is unnecessary ; that we are perfectly aware of every- 
 thing which he wished to tell ; and that we endorse all the 
 actions and statements of the person called De Marsillac 
 whom he met." 
 
 "And do you think that this will satisfy the world ? 
 Do you really imagine that it is possible to maintain secrecy 
 on such a point without giving rise to gossip which your 
 friends can neither answer nor resent ? Even if you have 
 not given Mr. Atherton your full confidence, he certainly 
 knows far more than any of us of this matter, in which 
 figure an unknown man and a large sum of money." 
 
 Diane's astonishment now began to give way to indigna- 
 tion. She could hardly believe that this was Adrien 
 Varigny speaking to her so coldly, almost sternly. " An 
 unknown man and a large sum of money !" Even more 
 offensive than the words was the manner in which they 
 were uttered. She had too little knowledge of the world 
 to be aware how far he was in the right, and the anger 
 which it was so difficult to rouse in her began to stir. 
 
 " Do I understand," she said, meeting his glance with a 
 fire in her own which he had never seen before, " that you 
 mean to imply that there is anything in our reticence 
 on these points which the world would have a right to 
 censure ?" 
 
 " I think," he answered, " that such reticence is unwise, 
 and certainly uncalled for, if there is not anything in the 
 facts which would demand censure."
 
 2<SX THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " You are kind enough to qualify your last words with 
 an ' if / " said she proudly. "It seems that it is rather 
 from our friends than from the world that we have to ex- 
 pect harsh judgment if we do not satisfy their curiosity." 
 
 Varigny started as if he had been stung. Indeed had a 
 humming-bird suddenly developed the stinging power of a 
 wasp, he could not have been more astonished than by these 
 words from Diane. 
 
 "Is it in this manner that you interpret what I have 
 said ?" he asked, in a tone of the deepest surprise rather 
 than of offence. " Then, indeed, I must apologize for 
 having spoken at all. Believe me I have no curiosity on 
 the subject of your mystery none. I have felt an interest 
 and concern at seeing you put yourself in a false position, 
 which I fancied our old friendship warranted. But I shall 
 not need to be informed of my mistake again. Let me 
 take you back to the ball-room." 
 
 " One moment," said Diane, who felt as if something 
 choked her. ' ' Since you are evidently right in saying that 
 the world, including one's friends, has only unjust suspi- 
 cion and censorious comment for whatever it does not fully 
 understand, I must tell you, for the sake of others if not 
 for my own, that in what you are pleased to call our mys- 
 tery there is no wrong involved ; nor anything that con- 
 cerns any one but ourselves." 
 
 " There you are mistaken," he replied impulsively, 
 speaking as he had not the instant before had the remotest 
 intention of doing. " "Whatever concerns you concerns 
 me, Diane. You know that I love you ; and, knowing 
 this, you might undersand how bitter it is to me that you 
 should withhold your confidence from me, and that a stran- 
 ger should know more of what affects your interest than 
 I do."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 289 
 
 How often it occurs that the good gift which would fill 
 our hearts with delight and gratitude did it come at the 
 moment when we are longing for it, is delayed by fate, or 
 by the fault or infirmity of others, until that moment is 
 past, and another has come in which it loses half nay, 
 sometimes all its sweetness and value ! Such was the 
 case now with Diane. Had these words been spoken by 
 Varigny even so short a time before as when they turned 
 from the ball-room door, they would have filled her with 
 happiness ; but now, angered, indignant, resentful of un- 
 just censure and suspicion, she could only feel that they 
 made the attitude of the speaker more unpardonable. Her 
 pulses were throbbing with excitement ; a conflict of feel- 
 ing, in which it was impossible to say what emotion was 
 strongest, possessed her, as she lifted her proud young head 
 like the queen she looked. 
 
 " And do you call that a reason for what you have said 
 to me ?" she asked in a low, vibrant tone. " It seems to 
 me that it rather makes it worse. If you loved me, you 
 would have faith in me. You would not, you could not, 
 think of suspecting anything wrong in a mere reticence 
 about our own affairs. I do not believe in a love which 
 has no trust." 
 
 " In other words, you know nothing of love," answered 
 Varigny. " If you did, you would understand that it de- 
 mands as well as gives trust. And do you trust me ? Will 
 you tell me who this unknown man is, and how he is so 
 closely connected with you that you answer for his acts as 
 if they were your own ?" 
 
 " Will I tell you when you ask me in such a tone as 
 this ? No. I should despise myself if I did." 
 
 " Then that is enough. I am answered. If I am not 
 worthy of your confidence, I am not worthy of anything else. "
 
 290 THE MAJT OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " And if I am not worthy of faith, I am worthy of 
 nothing." 
 
 They had ceased walking ; Diane had dropped his arm, 
 and they stood facing each other like two duellists, forget- 
 ful of their surroundings in the excitement of the moment, 
 when suddenly, with a loud, final clash, the music ceased, 
 and an immediate rush from the ball-room of dancers, 
 eager for the cooler air of the corridor, ensued. Varigny 
 instantly offered his arm again. 
 
 "I think," he observed in his usual manner, "that 
 this is all we have to say. Forgive me for detaining you 
 so long. And, now that our dance is over, allow me to 
 take you back to your court." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 said Octave, "what is the reason that 
 Diane is talking of going home at once, when she came 
 with the intention of spending several weeks here ?' ' 
 
 Adrien, whom she had arrested on his way out of the 
 house, stood drawing on his gloves and did not look at her. 
 
 " How should I know ?" he answered. " Mardi Gras is 
 over, and Miss Prevost probably finds herself dull. The 
 ashes received in church this morning have seemed to lie 
 rather heavily on the spirits of everybody to-day ; although, 
 for my part, I consider them very appropriate. Memento 
 homo quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris ; only it is 
 not necessary to wait until one is dust one's self to see other 
 things resolved into ashes." 
 
 " A very good frame of mind for Mercredi des Cendres," 
 said Octave, regarding him keenly ; " but so unusual on
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 291 
 
 your part as to rouse suspicion. You don't usually find 
 the ashes so appropriate to the end of the Carnival. Some- 
 thing has happened. Come in here and tell me about it." 
 
 Despite a little resistance on his part, she drew him into 
 the small sitting-room at the end of the suite of reception- 
 rooms, which was her favorite retreat ; and there forced 
 him into a chair. 
 
 " Now," said she, sitting down opposite him, " tell me 
 what occurred between Diane and yourself last night. Of 
 course I knew as soon as I saw your face and hers that 
 something had occurred." 
 
 " I was really not aware that I had such a tell-tale coun- 
 tenance," he replied, flushing slightly. " But you are 
 right. Something did occur which there is no reason to 
 conceal. Miss Prevost was kind enough to tell me that she 
 had no belief in my love and no confidence in myself." 
 
 " Adrien ! It is impossible I Diane could never have 
 said that. You must have misunderstood her." 
 
 " If you know more of the matter than I do, there is no 
 need to question me, " he answered irritably. ' ' I am tell- 
 ing you in substance exactly what was said." 
 
 " But how did such a thing come to be said ? What 
 drew it out ? Tell me" (impatiently) ; "for I am sure 
 you have been stupid." 
 
 " If I was stupid, it was not for lack of sufficient explicit- 
 ness on her part. To begin at the beginning, I found her 
 with Atherton when I went to claim a dance for which she 
 was engaged to me ; and they had the air of people who 
 were engrossed in very important conversation. When I 
 apologized for interrupting them, she said that they had 
 finished what it was * necessary ' they should say ; and then 
 turning to Atherton, she thanked him with emphasis for 
 all his kindness, before moving away with me."
 
 292 THE MAN OP THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Well ?" as he paused at this point. 
 
 " Well, you may imagine that this brought to my mind 
 very forcibly the singular mystery which seems to connect 
 Atherton and the Prevosts with some unknown person 
 whose very existence Diane declines to explain. It has 
 seemed to me an inexplicable mystery ever since I first 
 heard of it more inexplicable and more serious from its 
 connection with money and her tone towards this man, 
 whom she had just met for the first time, absolutely con- 
 founded me. I found it impossible to refrain from speak- 
 ing from telling her that she was making a mistake, which 
 the world would hold very serious, in admitting this stran- 
 ger to a confidence which she withheld from her oldest 
 friends. To this she replied that they (her family) had a 
 right to preserve what degree of reticence they chose with 
 regard to their private affairs ; and added that it appeared 
 to be from their friends, rather than from the world, that 
 they had to expect harsh judgment if they failed to satisfy 
 their (our) curiosity." 
 
 " Adrien ! that does not sound like Diane." 
 
 " Nothing that she said sounded like Diane. Some in- 
 fluence seems to have changed her utterly. I am sorry to 
 say that when she declared that their mystery concerned no 
 one but themselves, I was foolish enough to lose my head 
 and reply that it concerned me, since I loved her." 
 
 " And then ?" 
 
 " Then she said that she had no belief in a love which 
 showed no trust. I replied that love demanded as well as 
 gave trust, and that if she cared for me she would not 
 withhold her confidence regarding this mysterious man who 
 seemed so nearly connected with her family affairs. In 
 short, Octave, it was a deadlock. She demanded a blind 
 faith in proof of my love, and I asked confidence as a proof
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 293 
 
 of hers. Neither of us received what we asked, and so 
 voild tout !" 
 
 ( ' But it is impossible that this can be the end. You 
 were both angry I am sure of it you both asked too 
 much. But especially you were in the wrong. Why did 
 you tell Diane in such a manner that you loved her ? 
 Why did you make your love a claim to force her confi- 
 dence ? Of course she resented your lack of trust. Any 
 woman would have done so. And yet you know that this 
 mystery conceals nothing wrong." 
 
 " I know nothing of the kind. How can I possibly 
 know ^it ? I only know that people, unless they are abso- 
 lute idiots, do not make mysteries of things which there is 
 no reason to conceal. But, right or wrong, the fact re- 
 mains that Diane does not love me, or she would give me 
 her confidence." 
 
 " If you had asked for it properly, I am sure that she 
 would have given it." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders as he rose from his seat. 
 
 " I don't know what would be your idea of asking prop- 
 erly," he said ; " but of this I am sure, that I shall never 
 ask in any manner again. Miss Prevost can hereafter have 
 as many mysteries as she likes, and confide in whom she 
 likes, without the least interference from me. And if she 
 is intending to go away in order to avoid me, pray let her 
 know that such a step is unnecessary, since I am on the 
 point of leaving the city myself. There are matters requir- 
 ing attention on the plantation, and I shall go there to. 
 morrow." 
 
 " Adrien, you will not be so foolish !" 
 
 But Adrien was already gone beyond the reach of remon- 
 strance. 
 
 Octave remained silent and motionless for several min-
 
 294 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 utes after his departure, until at last her meditation bore 
 fruit in two words. " Quelle b&ise /" she murmured ; and 
 was on the point of leaving the room when the door opened 
 and Diane entered. 
 
 But what a different Diane from the brilliant queen of 
 last night's ball ! She looked pale ; her eyes were heavy, 
 her movements languid ; and as she sat down on a low 
 couch and sank back on the cushions with which it was 
 piled, there was little to remind one of the Psyche-like 
 maiden who seemed usually to brighten the world by mere- 
 ly condescending to exist in it. 
 
 Octave looked at her keenly as she resumed her own seat. 
 
 " You are quite a picture of ' After the Carnival,' 
 Diane," she remarked. " I never saw you used up by a 
 ball before. You look as if, like Adrien, you are in a 
 frame of mind to have found the ashes very appropriate 
 to-day." 
 
 " Yes," said Diane a little listlessly : " I am used up. 
 Evidently gayety does not agree with me. As I told you 
 this morning, Octave, I think I must go home. I am too 
 much of a country mouse to enjoy dissipation." 
 
 " But there is no need to run away from dissipation, now 
 that the Car&me is here. We shall be quiet enough after 
 this, never fear. You did not look very much like a coun- 
 try mouse last night. It has been long since Rex has had 
 such a beautiful queen, or such a magnificent one either. 
 What superb diamonds those were that you wore ! Every 
 one noticed them." 
 
 " They are family jewels," answered Diane quietly. 
 " They belonged to my great great-grandmother." 
 
 " I thought they must be family jewels, because the set- 
 ting is evidently old. I wonder you have not had them 
 reset. They would gain so much in brilliancy."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 295 
 
 " Perhaps we may have them reset some day. Until 
 now we have had many more important things to think 
 of." 
 
 " I wonder/' said Octave again and she suddenly sat 
 erect with the energy of her thought " that you did not 
 buy your release from Burnham with those jewels, instead 
 of taking into consideration the sacrifice of yourself. They 
 must be nearly, if not quite, valuable enough to have paid 
 the debt/' 
 
 " But we did not have them then," said Diane without 
 reflection. 
 
 " Oh ! I thought you said they belonged to your great- 
 great-grandmother. " 
 
 " So I did" blushing suddenly ; " but, all the same, 
 they have only lately come into our possession." 
 
 " Ah 1" 
 
 Octave could hardly restrain the further questions which 
 burned, as it were, upon her tongue. But she remembered 
 that she touched the skirt of a mystery which was 
 already making so much trouble, and she forbore. More 
 and more, however, did this mystery torment and puzzle 
 her. What could be the meaning of it ? Was it only 
 folly, or was there really something very strange anything 
 wrong was impossible at the bottom of it ? She said to 
 herself that lasting misapprehensions often result from lack 
 of plain-speaking, and she was determined that she would 
 try if a little of this plain-speaking could not sweep away 
 the misunderstanding between her brother and her friend. 
 
 "Diane, "she said suddenly, "you will be angry per- 
 haps, but I cannot help it. I must tell you that I have 
 heard from Adrien what occurred between you and him 
 last night, and that I am very sorry." 
 
 Diane started, for she was not expecting this, and looked
 
 296 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 at her with eyes in which there was nothing of anger, but 
 only a pained wistfulness. 
 
 " Perhaps I am sorry, too, Octave," she replied simply. 
 " But that does not help the matter." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it does it must, Diane !" cried Octave eager- 
 ly. " If you are sorry, everything is possible ; for I assure 
 you that he is sorry too. And out of two sorrows joy 
 should come." 
 
 " Not necessarily not unless there is more than mere 
 sorrow in the case." 
 
 " And there is more there is love. Can you deny it? 
 I know that he loves you, and I believe that you love 
 him." 
 
 "There is no such thing as love without faith," said 
 Diane proudly. " I would not believe any man who de- 
 clared in the same breath that he loved and that he dis- 
 trusted me. What he calls love is a sentiment not worthy 
 of the name." 
 
 "Diane, Diane," said Octave warningly, "don't be so 
 foolish as to ask what men are not capable of giving. We 
 give the kind of faith you ask, but they do not. Their 
 love is always jealous. And it is not just to say that Adrien 
 distrusts you. He is only deeply wounded that you will 
 not give him the confidence which you give a stranger." 
 
 " What stranger ?" 
 
 " Mr. Atherton." 
 
 " You are mistaken. I have given him no confidence. 
 He knows no more than any one else, except that he has 
 met the person called De Marsillac. ' ' 
 
 " And who is that person, Diane ? See, I am bold enough 
 to ask the question which is in the mind of every one. I 
 am bold enough to tell you that you cannot maintain this 
 mystery ; that it is a folly and a mistake, since the world
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 297 
 
 always puts the worst possible construction on what is con- 
 cealed." 
 
 " You have learned your lesson well, Octave. That is 
 just what your brother said tome last night ; and I tell you 
 now what 1 told him then : that the world has nothing to 
 do with a reticence which we choose to maintain on our 
 private affairs ; and that while I would willingly give con- 
 fidence to those who trust me, I will never satisfy the curi- 
 osity of those who make such confidence a condition of 
 trust." 
 
 " Diane ! if you spoke to Adrien in that manner, it is 
 no wonder he was hurt. " 
 
 "And how else should I have spoken to him?" asked 
 Diane, with the same air of pride. " Should I violate the 
 confidence of others in order to satisfy Adrien that a mat- 
 ter in which my mother mind, my mother ! is concerned 
 is altogether honorable ? I do not think you appreciate 
 how deeply offensive his doubts are." 
 
 " Again you are unjust. I am sure he has never thought 
 of such doubts as you suggest. Can't you understand will 
 you not understand that he is simply wounded that you 
 do not think him worthy of your trust ? And I will not 
 deny that he is also jealous of this unknown man who 
 seems to have done so much for you." 
 
 Diane's gesture seemed to signify perfect indifference on 
 the last point ; and, after waiting a moment for reply, 
 Octave pleadingly went on : 
 
 " Diane, it is a little thing to ask after all our friend- 
 ship : tell me who this man is." 
 
 Diane looked at her pale and resolute. 
 
 " Octave," she said gravely, " I would tell you in a mo- 
 ment, if it were not that to tell you is the same as telling 
 your brother, and that I cannot do. It would be to say
 
 298 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 that I accept his love without his trust, and to this I will 
 never condescend." 
 
 " You are throwing away his happiness and your own by 
 such foolish obstinacy." 
 
 ' ' And what is he doing ? The first demand was on his 
 side. He did not ask my love, and leave me to give my 
 confidence as a natural result of giving that ; but, on the 
 contrary, he made the confidence a condition of deigning 
 to offer his love at all." 
 
 " Diane !" 
 
 " That is an exact statement of the case, Octave. And 
 now, if you please, we will say no more about it." 
 
 She rose as she spoke and left the room ; while Octave, 
 clasping her hands, lifted her eyes towards the ceiling and 
 cried again in heartfelt tones : 
 
 " Quelle b&ise /" . 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " I WONDER why I am staying here ?" 
 
 It was Atherton who made this remark to himself, as he 
 sat in his pleasant sitting-room in the Hotel Royal, near a 
 bright coal fire, and looked out through a window beside 
 him at the quaint, red-tiled roofs of the ancient buildings, 
 with their green-painted iron balconies, across the narrow 
 street. He liked his quarters ; and the old French city 
 had laid her fascination upon him, as she lays it upon all 
 who are able to appreciate what is antique, picturesque, 
 and as far as possible removed from the crudity and color- 
 lessness of ordinary American life. But it was certain that 
 this was not the climate recommended to him by the doc-
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 299 
 
 tors who had ordered him to the West Indies. Although 
 nothing can be more charming than the winter climate of 
 New Orleans when the weather is fine, nothing can be 
 more disagreeable when, as often happens, it is bad. And 
 very bad it chanced to be at present. The sky at which 
 he gazed was of a cheerless gray, lowering over the perspec- 
 tive of roofs and chimneys ; and it was not necessary to 
 venture forth to be aware that the atmosphere was of a 
 most penetrating dampness. A greater contrast could not 
 be imagined to the brightness of the day preceding the 
 day of uproarious Carnival gayety ; but such changes are 
 an established feature of the New Orleans climate. 
 
 It was natural that the change should have depressed 
 Atherton, especially when taken in connection with other 
 things. He had just finished reading a letter from his 
 father urging him to return to the tropics to Cuba, 
 Jamaica, Santo Domingo anywhere he liked so that he 
 quitted at once a climate so likely to do him harm. And 
 while he had little disposition to set forth again upon a 
 round of travel without interest or occupation, he told him- 
 self that he had as little inclination to remain where he 
 was. In fact, a sense of disappointment altgether dispro- 
 portioned to the cause that roused it weighed upon him. 
 He had come here for two purposes to trace out the mys- 
 tery of the boy who had accepted his help and then so un- 
 gratefully vanished, and to warn the people whose inherit- 
 ance he had assisted to place in the hands of one who was 
 possibly a robber and an impostor. And he had failed in 
 both objects. He had not traced the boy the mystery sur- 
 rounding him was as deep as ever ; and he had found his 
 warning to the descendants of Henri de Marsillac alto- 
 gether unnecessary. The treasure had passed into their 
 hands he had ocular proof of that in the diamonds which
 
 300 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 the night before had flashed upon Diane- s neck and he 
 occupied in their eyes the unenviable position of one who 
 officiously meddled with what did not concern him. 
 
 Yes, there was no doubt of it, there was nothing what- 
 ever to keep him here. Even Diane he would be quite 
 frank with himself even Diane had disappointed him. 
 His curiosity to see her had been excited by the certainty 
 that she was indeed the Diane of whom he and the boy had 
 talked as they went upon their treasure-quest ; the beauti- 
 ful maiden ready for self-sacrifice, whose ransom they were 
 seeking. He had said many fanciful things of her then, 
 and some of them returned to his mind when he found 
 that there was really such a person. He had gone to see 
 her, expecting he hardly knew what, but chiefly perhaps to 
 find one who would remind him of the boy he had lost : to 
 see in feminine guise the charming face, the beautiful eyes, 
 the frank lips that had so entered into his heart that even 
 indignation could not cast them out. And he found Diane 
 totally different. Beautiful, yes beautiful in the style 
 which had been described to him but totally unlike the 
 picture he had made for himself of what she would be, and 
 hence to him a disappointment. 
 
 So he, too, had his share of those ashes of Mercredi des 
 Cendres which Adrien Varigny found so appropriate, and 
 liked the taste of them as little as any other son of man. 
 Life indeed seemed very tasteless altogether, as it stretched 
 before him in immediate perspective. What was he to do 
 with himself ? Where was he to find an interest to occupy 
 the existence which for some time he must spend in seek- 
 ing for health, or in at least averting disease ? The ques- 
 tion carried his mind back to the pleasure he had taken in 
 the adventure in search of the buried treasure ; but it was 
 too much to hope for anything like that again. If he could
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 301 
 
 only find the boy, forgive him his foolish mystery, his fare- 
 well, and take him as a companion, he might find idling 
 tolerable pay, more than tolerable with one so sympa- 
 thetic, receptive, and attractive. But plainly this was not 
 ,to be hoped for either ; although he never strolled through 
 the narrow, dark streets and passages, like bits of old Paris, 
 without looking to see the lithe young figure and pic- 
 turesque face emerge from some shadowy court or archway. 
 
 Thoughts of this kind led him to put out his hand and 
 take up a large portfolio lying on a table near, which con- 
 tained the photographs he had made in Hayti. Turning 
 them over, he found one which represented the spot at 
 Millefleurs where the treasure had been found that green, 
 enclosed circle of the garden, in the centre of which stood 
 the old sun-dial. And by the side of the sun-dial, with one 
 hand laid upon it, was the figure of the boy, whom he had 
 insisted on photographing. As he looked at the picture he 
 recalled what a degree of insistence had been necessary to 
 induce him to allow himself to be taken, and his reluctance 
 appeared very significant in the light of later events. " He 
 did not want to leave anything by means of which he might 
 be identified," Atherton said to himself, with an intelli- 
 gence in which he had been lacking at the time. " I re- 
 member now that, making an excuse of the sunshine, he 
 even drew his hat low upon his brow, so as to shade his face 
 deeply. But he did not succeed in rendering the picture 
 unrecognizable. It is dark, but it is he. There is no mis- 
 taking it." 
 
 He looked at it intently, full of the recollections which 
 it aroused, and with his yearning towards the original the 
 strong affection he had conceived for him hardly lessened 
 by this evident proof that his disappearance was premedi- 
 tated even then. It was still in his hand when a knock at
 
 302 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 the door was followed by the entrance of a servant with a 
 card. 
 
 " Mr. Varigny," he said, reading it. " Show him up." 
 
 Five minutes later the two men had shaken hands and 
 were seated before the leaping brightness of the fire. 
 
 " I am very glad to find you in," said Varigny ; " for, 
 since I understood you to say that you would not be much 
 longer here, I might not else have had the pleasure of see- 
 ing you again, as I myself am leaving the city to-morrow." 
 
 " I shall certainly not be here more than a few days 
 longer, if so much as that," Atherton replied. " If your 
 absence will be long, you would not therefore be likely to 
 find me on your return." 
 
 " I shall probably be absent several weeks/' said the 
 other ; and then a momentary silence fell. 
 
 It was broken by Atherton, who, glancing out at the 
 gray sky and roofs glistening with dampness, remarked : 
 
 " The heavens seem doing penance to-day for the bright- 
 ness with which they gilded the gay foolery of yesterday. 
 It is fortunate that this is not Mardi Gras." 
 
 " Oddly enough, we almost invariably have bright 
 weather for Mardi Gras," answered Varigny. " But our 
 climate can be occasionally what Englishmen call c beast- 
 ly,' and to-day merits the term. I really don't wonder you 
 are thinking of departure. You must regret the tropical 
 sunshine you lately quitted ?" 
 
 " One fine day here makes one unable to regret any- 
 thing," said Atherton. "But I believe this excessive 
 variableness of climate is just what the doctors want me to 
 guard against. So I must turn my face elsewhere, al- 
 though where I have not yet determined." 
 
 " You are not thinking of returning to the West 
 Indies ?"
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 303 
 
 '* I really don't know I haven't decided at all. There 
 is unfortunately nothing to force me to choose one place 
 more than another ; and I cannot at this moment think of 
 any place with sufficient attractions to tempt me. " 
 
 " My knowledge of the West Indies is limited to Cuba/' 
 said Varigny ; " but I am told that some of the other 
 islands are even more attractive." 
 
 " The gem of the West Indies is undoubtedly the island 
 of Santo Domingo," returned Atherton. " Nature has 
 done absolutely everything for it, but man has so cursed it 
 that it is the saddest spot I know." 
 
 " Were you in the French portion, now called Hayti ?" 
 
 " I left that part of the island only a few weeks ago." 
 
 There was again a moment's silence ; and then Varigny, 
 with an apparent carelessness which was belied by the ner- 
 vous grasp of his slender hand upon the rim of the hat 
 which he held, observed : 9 
 
 " I have always felt a particular interest in that island, 
 because we have among us a good many of the descendants 
 of those who fled from it at the time of the insurrection of 
 the slaves. Some of our best friends the Prevosts, for 
 example are, on one side at least, ' San Dominguiais.' ' 
 
 " The mysterious De Marsillac whom I met," said 
 Atherton quietly, ' ' was there to visit the old estate of his 
 family ; and I accompanied him on the expedition. There" 
 he tossed over the photographs beside him, and selecting 
 one, handed it to Varigny " is a picture of the place as it 
 appears to-day." 
 
 Varigny received the photograph eagerly and looked at 
 it with interest. 
 
 " It seems still a very handsome house," he remarked ; 
 " but is apparently unoccupied." 
 
 "It is a ruin," Atherton answered. "It has been a
 
 304 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 magnificent house, but what you see is merely a shell. 
 Within those walls there are only roofless chambers filled 
 with rich tropical vegetation. The grounds surrounding 
 it are of great extent, and must once have been of extreme 
 beauty, but they are now an overgrown wilderness." 
 
 " You have no other views of the place, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yes, here is the best photograph I made a view of 
 the superb avenue of palms which leads from the gates to 
 the house. And here" after a perceptible pause " is a 
 view of a certain spot on one of the terraces of the garden." 
 
 When Varigny, laying down the picture of the avenue 
 with an expression of admiration, took up the last photo- 
 graph offered, Atherton, who was watching him closely, saw 
 an immediate increase of interest in his manner. 
 
 " Whom does this figure represent ?" he asked quickly. 
 
 " That," said Atherton, " is the young man who called 
 himself De Marsillac, and whom I accompanied there." 
 
 Varigny did not speak, but he rose at once and carried 
 the picture to the window. Then followed silence in the 
 room for the space of two or three minutes. Atherton, 
 sitting motionless, looked at the fire, and said to himself 
 that whatever revelation came and he had an instinct of 
 some impending revelation it would not be of his seeking. 
 Accident alone had led to his showing this picture ; and if 
 the intense observation which his friend was bestowing 
 upon it resulted in a discovery of the identity of the bearer 
 of an extinct name, this result would have no interest for 
 him beyond the natural gratification of his curiosity. 
 
 When, however, Varigny presently turned and came back 
 to the fire, he was conscious of a distinct sense of disap- 
 pointment ; for plainly his curiosity was not to be gratified. 
 And yet there had been a revelation. There was not in 
 his mind a shade of doubt of that. The young Creole pre-
 
 THE MAN" OP THE FAMILY. 305 
 
 served unmoved the quiet composure of his manner, but he 
 could not control the paleness of his face, nor the glow in 
 his eyes that enlargement of the pupils so significant of 
 strong mental emotion. 
 
 " It seems," he said, in a voice which he strove to ren- 
 der careless, but in which Atherton detected the strain of 
 effort, " that this person was very young." 
 
 "A mere youth," Atherton replied : "not more than 
 nineteen or twenty years old." 
 
 " And" was there a note of suspicion here ? " you saw 
 no reason to suspect him of being anything but what he 
 declared himself while you were with him ?" 
 
 " Certainly not. No suspicion entered my mind. "Why 
 should it have done so ? He seemed a boy of a particularly 
 high type, with all the frankness of nature one usually asso- 
 ciates with boyhood, and much more than the ordinary de- 
 gree of refinement. His attractive qualities were very 
 great. It is difficult for me to believe that he was in any 
 sense an impostor." 
 
 " An impostor, no," said Varigny thoughtfully. " I 
 don't think he was that ; in fact, we have Miss Prevost's 
 word for it that he was not." 
 
 " And yet every one is agreed there is no De Marsillac 
 living." 
 
 ' ' Male De Marsillac, no at least not that we are aware 
 of. But the family have naturally a claim to know more 
 of the subject than others can ; and, since they endorse 
 this boy, we have no right to challenge his pretensions. " 
 
 " I have not thought of doing so," said Atherton stiffly. 
 ci It is not a matter which concerns me in the least." 
 
 " Pardon me," returned the other quickly. " In say- 
 ing ' we have no right ' I was merely using a form of speech. 
 I am well aware of the reticence you have observed on this
 
 30G THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 subject ; and, as a friend of the family, I thank you for it. 
 And now may 1 beg a favor ? Will you lend me this photo- 
 graph for a few hours ?" 
 
 There was a pause. Atherton looked keenly at the 
 young man who, full of irrepressible eagerness, stood before 
 him. A sudden disinclination to do anything, or to allow 
 anything to be done, which could in any way harm the boy 
 who had been his companion in distant Hayti made itself 
 felt with an intensity for which he was unprepared. 
 
 " Mr. Varigny," he replied at length, " I have just said 
 that this matter does not concern me in the least. But I 
 am concerned to keep a pledge which I gave to Miss Pre- 
 vost last night : that, so long as her family chose to main- 
 tain this mystery, I would do nothing to interfere with it." 
 
 "Did Miss Prevost ask for this pledge?" inquired 
 Varigny anxiously. 
 
 ' ' No. It was altogether voluntary on my part. Having 
 seemed to interfere in their affairs, I felt bound to explain 
 why I had done so, and also to assure her that she had no 
 further interference to anticipate from me." 
 
 " And she said " 
 
 " If I remember rightly, that she did not deny she was 
 glad to hear it. Therefore I am doubly bound by my 
 voluntary assurance and by her expressed desireto do 
 nothing to dissipate a mystery which, howeyer singular it 
 may appear to us, it is the wish of the family to maintain. 
 This being so, I should not perhaps have showed you that 
 photograph which was taken, I may tell you, against the 
 strongly expressed wish of the original ; and I hope you 
 will not misunderstand me when I say that I cannot allow 
 you to carry it away." 
 
 " Do you think it possible that I would use it to affect 
 any one injuriously ?"
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 307 
 
 " I cannot imagine that you would at least consciously. 
 But do you not see that 1 am bound to maintain discretion 
 on my part, without regard to what yours might be ?" 
 
 ' ' If you knew me better, you would not hesitate to 
 trust me." 
 
 " If you were my own brother, Mr. Varigny, I could not 
 violate my pledge for you. I greatly fear, indeed, from 
 your eagerness, that I have violated it already, though un- 
 intentionally that you recognize the picture." 
 
 " No : it is impossible to say that I recognize it. I am 
 only struck by a likeness so strong that 1 cannot account 
 for it ; and if I repeat my request that you will let me 
 carry the photograph away for an hour, it is only that I 
 may show it to my sister, under pledge of secrecy if you 
 desire. Believe me" with great earnestness, as Atherton 
 still hesitated" I would put my hand into the fire before 
 I would do anything to injure or annoy Miss Prevost or any 
 of her family. But to obtain a little light on this mystery 
 is very important to me ; and / am not pledged to re- 
 spect it." 
 
 " Casuistry, as far as I am concerned, I am afraid," said 
 Atherton, smiling. " But be it so. I cannot refuse to 
 trust you. Take the photograph, and do not misunder- 
 stand me when I say that in the use you make of it my 
 honor is concerned as well as your own." 
 
 " I shall remember," answered the other gravely. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 So it came to pass that Octave, still seated where Diane 
 had left her, meditating on human folly in general, and 
 that of the two persons in whom she was immediately inter-
 
 308 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 ested in particular, was very much surprised by the speedy 
 return of her brother ; and still further surprised by the 
 unusual excitement of his manner. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she asked quickly, as soon as 
 she saw him. 
 
 He replied by drawing the photograph from his pocket 
 and handing it to her. 
 
 " Octave," he said, " here is a likeness of the unknown 
 De Marsillac. Look at it and tell me if you have ever seen 
 the face before." 
 
 Still more surprised, but with an interest equalling her 
 surprise, Octave received the photograph, and, like himself, 
 at once carried it to a window for the benefit of all the light 
 available on so dark a day. A minute passed ; then, with- 
 out turning her eyes from the picture, she said : 
 
 " I think that papa keeps a magnifying-glass on his writ- 
 ing-table. Go and bring it to me." 
 
 Her brother left the room, and in a moment later re- 
 turned with a glass in his hand. She took it eagerly and 
 held it over the photographed face, regarding it intently 
 for some time longer. Finally looking up, her eyes full of 
 startled astonishment and incredulity, she exclaimed : 
 
 " Adrien, if Yvonne Prevost had a twin brother, I should 
 say that this was he !" 
 
 " But Yvonne Prevost has no twin brother no brother 
 of any kind," said Varigny. 
 
 " That is true but what a likeness ! Viola and Sebas- 
 tian were not more alike. ' ' 
 
 " Viola and Cesario, perhaps you mean." 
 
 " Adrien f Do you think " 
 
 " I don't know what to think, Octave. It was for that 
 reason I brought this picture to you, though Atherton was 
 very loath to let me have it. He was sorry for having
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 309 
 
 showed it to me ; for it seems that the person represented 
 was very averse to being photographed ; and he had, more- 
 over, promised Diane to do nothing more touching the mys- 
 tery in which they choose to envelop the identity of the so- 
 called De Marsillac. Therefore I am pledged to show the 
 picture to no one but yourself, and you are pledged to 
 secrecy regarding it." 
 
 " I shall certainly not talk of it," said Octave with an 
 emphasis which seemed to indicate that she might, how- 
 ever, do something besides talk. " But I don't understand 
 did Mr. Atherton himself take this photograph ?" 
 
 " Certainly. It represents a scene in the gardens of the 
 old De Marsillac estate in Hayti, where he went with that 
 person." 
 
 " Why did they go there ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you. He gave no explanation. He has 
 several other views of the place, but this is the only one in 
 which the figure enters." 
 
 Octave looked at the figure again silently for a moment, 
 regarded it again through the magnifying glass, and then 
 observed meditatively : 
 
 " And the person was reluctant to be photographed ?" 
 
 ' ' Exceedingly reluctant, Atherton says ; and, therefore, 
 he has scruples about showing the picture, joined to scru- 
 ples about breaking his promise to Diane." 
 
 " Diane, then, talked to him on the subject?" 
 
 " Did I not tell you that I found them in earnest con- 
 versation last night ? 1 never doubted that they were talk- 
 ing on this subject. But it is evident that she did not give 
 him her confidence. He is as ignorant of anything con- 
 cerning the identity of the mysterious De Marsillac as when 
 he first began his inquiries ; but has given a pledge to her 
 to proceed no further with these inquiries."
 
 310 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " There is certainly something exceedingly strange about 
 the whole matter,' ' said Octave. " I never heard of anything 
 like it before. The question of who is this De Marsillac is 
 almost equalled in mystery by the other questions that arise 
 as, for example, what was he doing in Hayti at the old 
 family estate ? Why did Mr. Atherton begin his inquiries 
 by saying that the Prevosts had suffered some injury or loss 
 by him ? And, most wonderful of all, where did the money 
 to pay Madame Prevost's debt come from ? And where 
 did Diane obtain diamonds fit for a queen ?" 
 
 Varigny nodded gloomily. 
 
 " I saw them," he said. 
 
 " Saw them ! the diamonds ! Why, you would have 
 had to be blind not to have seen them. They are superb, and 
 would be twice as effective if properly set. The setting is 
 very old, and bears out her assertion that they belonged to 
 her several times great-grandmother, and have only lately 
 come into her possession." 
 
 " By what means?" 
 
 " That is part of the mystery. She is absolutely reti- 
 cent about the means. And such secretiveness is some- 
 thing so new in Diane that I cannot understand it. This 
 picture, however, makes one thing certain, Adrien : you 
 have no rival to fear in this boy." 
 
 " It was never a question of a rival in my mind," said 
 Adrien haughtily. " It was a question of Diane's confi- 
 dence." 
 
 " And Diane thinks that it is a question of your confi- 
 dence, and so there you are at a deadlock ! Eh Men, I 
 shall now take hold of the mystery and turn it inside out." 
 
 " Octave," observed Adrien warningly, " remember I 
 promised Atherton that no use would be made of this 
 photograph."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 311 
 
 " Here is the photograph," said Octave, promptly re- 
 turning it to him. " Take it back to Mr. Atherton at 
 once, so that he may be quite sure I make no use of it. 
 But you did not promise that I should not use the knowl- 
 edge it has given me ; and in that respect I shall act ac- 
 cording to my best judgment." 
 
 " What are you going to do ?" 
 
 " I shall not tell you. If you don't know you can't ob- 
 ject. Only try and behave to Diane as if your relations 
 were not hopelessly strained ; and don't forsake the 
 world for the plantation for a day or two yet. Now 
 go." 
 
 But notwithstanding the gesture of dismissal which ac- 
 companied these words, Varigny lingered. 
 
 " Octave," he said again, " take care how you touch this 
 thing. I am beginning to believe that there is very good 
 reason for the reticence of the Prevosts." 
 
 " Go !" said Octave more imperatively still. " I don't 
 ask assistance and I don't need advice. Go !" 
 
 He hesitated yet a little longer, regarding her doubtfully 
 the while ; and then, with a significant movement of the 
 shoulders, left the room. 
 
 Thus left with a free hand, Octave hardly waited for the 
 door to close before she flew to her writing-desk a pretty, 
 silver-decked affair in the brightest corner of the room 
 and dashed off the following letter, without giving herself 
 time for reflection or hesitation : 
 
 " MY DEAR YVONNE : Knowing the position you hold 
 in your family more as if you were its head than one of 
 its younger members I do not think I can do better than 
 to appeal to you for assistance in a matter which concerns 
 us both equally since it touches the happiness of my
 
 312 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 brother and of your sister and of which I suspect you will 
 never hear from Diane. 
 
 " I am sure you believe with me that Adrien and her- 
 self were made for each other, and that they have both 
 been aware of it for some time. When Diane came to us 
 for her present visit, I was charmed to think that the ro- 
 mance would no doubt reach its natural conclusion, and 
 give us the gratification of beholding the course of true love 
 for once run smooth. But, instead of this, misunderstand- 
 ings have arisen or, to be strictly accurate, one misunder- 
 standing has arisen, of so serious a nature that I fear it will 
 prove an insurmountable obstacle to their happiness unless 
 it can be removed. And for this reason I address you, 
 hoping that it may be possible for you to assist in remov- 
 ing it. 
 
 " Briefly, then. I wonder if Diane has mentioned to 
 you that a certain Mr. Atherton has been here for several 
 weeks, inquiring on all sides for a mysterious young man 
 named De Marsillac, whom he met in the West Indies, and 
 had reason to suppose came from Louisiana. Naturally, 
 every one whom he met assured him that there is no such 
 De Marsillac, and that your family alone have any right to 
 represent the name, as far as Louisiana is concerned. 
 Then this gentleman, who seems to have never properly 
 laid to heart the golden rule of minding one's own busi- 
 ness, expressed great concern lest your interests should in 
 some manner suffer from the doings of the De Marsillac 
 whom he knew, and declared that he possessed important 
 information which must be communicated to one of the 
 Prevosts. Diane's arrival seemed to occur opportunely to 
 gratify him ; but, to the surprise of every one, Diane de- 
 clined to receive either himself or his communication ; de- 
 clared she stood in no need of information ; knew the nays-
 
 THE MAN OP THE FAMILY. 313 
 
 terious De Marsillac, endorsed his doings, and, in short, 
 would hear nothing about him. One might have supposed 
 the matter would end here, but no. The persevering 
 Atherton was presented to her at the Rex ball (oh, if you 
 could have seen how perfectly beautiful she was that 
 night !) ; and, it is to be presumed, at once opened his 
 budget. At all events, Adrien found them deep in con- 
 versation ; and, seizing the first opportunity offered him 
 afterwards, proceeded, with a man's delightful tact, to re* 
 proach Diane for giving her confidence to a stranger, while 
 withholding it from himself. This, I may say in passing, 
 was unjust ; for Diane had given no confidence to the 
 troublesome Atherton, his knowledge being just what it 
 was originally neither more nor less. But who expects 
 reason from a jealous man ? And Adrien is very jealous 
 comprehensively jealous of the unknown De Marsillac and 
 everything connected with him. You can fancy his point 
 of view : ' Diane cares nothing for me if she withholds her 
 confidence from me ; has unexplained connection with an 
 unknown man who masqueraded under a name to which he 
 had no right, and concerning whose relation to her family 
 and herself she positively refuses to say anything. ' Then 
 fancy Diane's point of view : * If Adrien loved me, he 
 would trust me. He would not demand my confidence in 
 this manner ; he would be willing that I should give or 
 withhold it as seemed best to me ; but, whichever I did he 
 would never, never forget himself so far as to imagine that 
 I could be in the wrong.' Then follow high sentiments, 
 injured dignity, resentment, and final alienation on both 
 sides. 
 
 " This is how the matter stands at present. Neither 
 will yield an inch. I am astonished at Diane ; for she is 
 always so gentle and seems so easily influenced, but in this
 
 314 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 matter she will not be influenced at all. I am sure she is 
 unhappy, but she refuses even to tell me anything about 
 this De Marsillac who is the cause of all the trouble ; and 
 she talks of leaving us in a day or two. Of course Adrien 
 is miserable, but obstinate as a mule. 
 
 " Now, Yvonne, dear Yvonne, you must know as well as 
 Diane does all about this person. Cannot you clear up the 
 mystery in which he and his doings are enveloped, and let 
 these two foolish people be happy ? Mr. Atherton has told 
 Adrien that nothing will induce Mm to make any further 
 inquiries or take a further step of any kind in the matter ; 
 so there is no revelation to be looked for there, and the 
 only hope is in you in your common-sense and courage. 
 Surely there is nothing in this matter which demands con- 
 cealment ; and, if not, for the sake of Diane's happiness, 
 such concealment should be ended. I appeal to you because 
 I am certain that Diane will never tell you at what a cost 
 to herself she is keeping faith with some one, and you 
 ought to know it. Don't think that I interfere in what 
 does not concern me, but let me hear from you ; and be- 
 lieve me 
 
 ' ' Ever yours, OCTAVE. ' ' 
 
 The ink was hardly dry upon this impulsive letter when 
 it was mailed ; and Octave then spent twenty-four hours in 
 growing alternately hot and cold with varying hope and 
 fear, until at last a telegraphic message was put into her 
 hand. She opened it and read : 
 
 " Expect me to-morrow. 
 
 " YVONNE."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 315 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 " DEAR MR. ATHERTON : Will you take a cup of tea 
 with me at five o'clock this afternoon ? An old friend of 
 yours wishes to have the pleasure of renewing acquaintance 
 with you. Pray don't fail to come. 
 
 " Sincerely yours, 
 
 " OCTAVE VARIGNY." 
 
 " Now, what does that mean ?" said Atherton to him- 
 self, when, returning to his room after an absence of sev- 
 eral hours, he found this note on his table. " I am very 
 certain that I don't care for a cup of tea with Miss Varigny, 
 and still less to meet any old friend whom she has possibly 
 discovered. Unless indeed " 
 
 He paused as a sudden thought flashed across his mind. 
 It seemed incredible, and yet after all, perhaps it was bet- 
 ter to go. To ignore a lady's invitation was not very 
 courteous ; it was too late to send an excuse ; and this 
 was as good a way as another of making his adieux, since 
 he had decided to leave New Orleans the next day. He 
 glanced at his watch. A quarter to five. He had barely 
 time to keep the appointment ; and, now that he was aware 
 how narrowly he had escaped missing it altogether, he be- 
 came suddenly conscious that he would not have missed it 
 for anything. 
 
 It was a little after five when he rang the door-bell of 
 the Varigny house, and was shown into a drawing-room, 
 where a group were assembled, composed of the entire 
 Varigny family and Diane Prevost. As he entered Octave 
 came forward to meet him.
 
 316 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Mr. Atherton," she cried, " how good of you to be 
 so punctual ! I feared, since my note had to be left, that 
 you might not receive it in time ; and if you had not come 
 I should have been so disappointed/' 
 
 " Fancy, then, what my disappointment would have 
 been," replied Atherton. " But I am rather a lucky man, 
 so I returned to my hotel barely in time to find your note 
 and present myself at the hour you designated." 
 
 " That was lucky," said she approvingly. " Now come 
 and I will give you a cup of tea as soon as your greetings 
 are over." 
 
 There was no lack of cordiality in the manner of any of 
 the group, but Atherton felt something more than cor- 
 diality in that of Octave when he came to the tea-table, by 
 the side of which she had seated herself, for his promised 
 cup of tea. Her eyes seemed at once full of warm approval 
 and bright significance as they rested on him, while he was 
 well aware that his own expressed an unspoken question. 
 It was a question which she lost no time in answering. 
 
 " You must have been surprised by my summons," she 
 said, as he sat down in a low chair beside her, fragrant, 
 steaming cup in hand. " But I thought the hint of an old 
 friend would be sufficient to bring you." 
 
 "Do you think," he remarked, not unmindful of the 
 obligations of gallantry, " that anything more than your 
 kind invitation was necessary to bring me ? Yet I must 
 confess to some curiosity concerning the old friend. I am 
 unable to imagine who it can be." 
 
 " Are you indeed ?" she asked with evident surprise. 
 " Why, I fancied you would guess at once." 
 
 " It is hardly possible," he said, looking at her intently, 
 ' ' that it can be " 
 
 " One whom you fancied mysteriously lost ? Why not ?
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 317 
 
 To the fairies Determination and Good Will all things are 
 possible. " 
 
 " I begin to believe that you are the embodiment of those 
 fairies," said he. " But tell me " 
 
 " No," she interrupted quickly ; " I can tell you noth- 
 ing. In fact, I have only time to speak to the assembled 
 company before your our friend arrives." 
 
 She sprang lightly to her feet and stood erect a charm- 
 ing figure, full of animation and enjoyment of the situa- 
 tion, tapping with a spoon against the delicate china of her 
 teacup to attract attention. Every one looked at her, her 
 father and mother smiling as at the gay nonsense of a 
 child ; Diane with surprise, and Adrien with distinct ap- 
 prehension. He alone divined and feared the subject 
 on which she was about to speak. 
 
 " Since it is in compliance with my request that you are 
 all gathered here at this special moment," the clear young 
 voice began, " I wish to tell you for what purpose I have 
 made the request. Every one present is aware that we 
 have heard much lately of a certain unknown person called 
 De Marsillac" (Diane perceptibly started) ; " and some of 
 us are also aware that the mystery surrounding this person 
 has been of a nature to produce many ah misunderstand- 
 ings. This being so, it seems well that the mystery should be 
 ended ; and, therefore, I have been requested by the person 
 in question, Monsieur Henri de Marsillac ' ' 
 
 " Octave !" It was an exclamation from Diane which 
 thus stopped the speaker at the very point and peroration 
 of her address ; and Diane sprang to her feet with a haste 
 and energy foreign to her usual movements. " I forbid 
 you to go on !" she cried. " You have no right " 
 
 "Pardon me," returned Octave; "I have a right. I 
 speak, as I have already said, by the request of "
 
 318 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " It is impossible it cannot be true !" interposed 
 Diane passionately. " And if it is true, I will not per- 
 mit it." 
 
 " Diane," said the other quietly, " you have no right 
 to interfere." 
 
 " I have every right," answered Diane, with the same 
 strange passionateness. "It is you who have no right to 
 interfere as you have interfered, as you know that you 
 have interfered !" 
 
 " I interfered no further than to tell the person most 
 concerned that this mystery was causing trouble " 
 
 " To whom ?" inquired Diane, lifting her head proud- 
 ly. " Who besides ourselves was concerned in our mystery 
 if you choose to call it a mystery ? I call it merely a re- 
 serve which we had a right to maintain about what con- 
 cerned ourselves alone. Do you imagine," cried the girl, 
 with a sudden lightning flash of her eyes upon Varigny, 
 " that / was troubled, or that I would condescend to grat- 
 ify curiosity, reward distrust " 
 
 Up to this instant the rest of the group had sat mo- 
 tionless ; listening, astonished, and uncomprehending, to 
 the dialogue between the two who understood each other. 
 But the last words, together with Diane's scornful tone, 
 were understood by another, and suddenly Varigny rose. 
 
 " Diane," he said, coming to her side, "you cannot 
 think that I had anything to do with this ?" 
 
 Diane gave him another lightning glance. 
 
 "How do I know?" she asked. "One who has no 
 faith, no confidence, might well take any means " 
 
 " Say no more," he interposed quietly. " Let me only 
 show you once for all whether or not I have confidence. ' ' 
 He took her hand. " Come with me to the library," he 
 said. " We will leave Octave to give or withhold as she
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 319 
 
 pleases revelations which I agree with you in thinking that 
 she has no right to make." 
 
 " She has no right," repeated Diane ; " and I will not 
 permit them to be made." 
 
 " I never intended to make any revelations," said Octave. 
 " I leave that for one whom you cannot deny has such a 
 right ; one who has promised to be here ; one" as the 
 sound of a carriage driving up to the door was heard 
 " who is here." 
 
 " Come !" said Varigny again, in an imperative tone, 
 to Diane. " For myself, I will know nothing which you do 
 not wish to tell me neither now nor at any other time." 
 
 He led her as he spoke from the room not into the 
 hall, where there was now a sound of some one being ad- 
 mitted, but through a curtain-hung archway at the lower 
 end of the apartment into a room beyond, whence it was 
 evident that they quickly passed, since the sound of a clos- 
 ing door was heard just as the door of the drawing-room 
 opened and a servant's voice announced : 
 
 " M. de Marsillac." 
 
 It is impossible adequately to describe the thrill which 
 was felt by those whose expectation and interest had been 
 BO curiously and unexpectedly heightened by Diane's pro- 
 test and by the withdrawal of herself and Varigny, when 
 that name was heard, and when there entered a slender, 
 graceful youth, with deer-like head and easy, buoyant step, 
 carrying his hat in his hand. 
 
 Madame Varigny sat motionless, gazing at him intently ; 
 the Colonel put up his pince-nez to see more clearly ; Oc- 
 tave stood still, with the air of one who enjoys a scene 
 which has been carefully prepared ; and it was Atherton 
 who, putting down his teacup with a haste which almost 
 upset it, rose and went forward impulsively.
 
 320 
 
 " Henri !" he cried, extending his hand with a gesture 
 of welcome. " I thought that I had lost yon forever." 
 
 " Can you ever forgive the manner in which I treated 
 you, Mr. Atherton ?" asked the well-remembered voice, as 
 the equally well-remembered eyes looked up at him wistful 
 and appealing. " I assure you I have not been able to for- 
 give myself." 
 
 " You must have had a very strong reason for acting in 
 such a manner," said Atherton, regarding him with a de- 
 light that surprised himself, and conscious that for the 
 pleasure of this meeting he was ready to forgive anything. 
 
 " A very strong reason, yes," the other replied in a low 
 tone. " You shall judge for yourself how strong." 
 
 He gave the hand which held his own a quick, nervous 
 pressure, then dropped it ; and, passing Atherton by, went 
 directly to Madame Varigny, who still sat motionless, with 
 an expression of mingled astonishment and incredulity 
 upon her countenance. 
 
 " Does not Madame Varigny know me ?" he asked, paus- 
 ing before her. 
 
 " Yes," she answered gravely, almost sternly. " You 
 are Yvonne ; and this is a kind of acting which I confess 
 myself altogether unable to appreciate." 
 
 " Yvonne !" cried Colonel Varigny. 
 
 He made a quick stride forward, and taking hold of the 
 slender young figure, turned it around, with the face 
 towards the light. The boy to use the term once more 
 did not shrink from his scrutiny. The graceful head was 
 thrown slightly back, as that of one who has no cause for 
 shame ; and the frank brown eyes met unwaveringly those 
 keenly bent upon them. 
 
 The Colonel murmured a French oath under his white 
 mustache.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 321 
 
 " It is Yvonne !" he said then. " But who could have 
 imagined it ? My dear, what is the meaning of this ?" 
 
 'That is what I have come to tell you, " answered 
 Yvonne. 
 
 She did not glance towards Atherton as she spoke. It 
 was only Octave who observed how his astonishment had 
 the effect of causing a complete physical collapse. He 
 absolutely dropped into the nearest chair, as if the surprise 
 had been a veritable blow. Meanwhile Yvonne, taking 
 Colonel Varigny'3 hand in hers, drew him back to where 
 his wife sat. 
 
 " I see," she said, in clear, sweet tones, that were dis- 
 tinctly audible to every ear, " that Madame Varigny disap- 
 proves of me, and she is quite right. Nothing but the most 
 extreme necessity would justify my assuming this dress and 
 doing what I have done. If I had nothing more to justify 
 me than a daring spirit, a love of adventure, or even a de- 
 sire for fortune, I could neither hold myself excused nor 
 ask any one else to excuse me. But I had much more. 
 And I have come to tell you, because you are all my 
 friends" and here for an instant her glance rested on 
 Atherton " what induced me to undertake a venture so 
 wild and a risk so great. But where" she turned to Oc- 
 tave " are Diane and your brother?" 
 
 " They left the room as you entered it," answered Oc- 
 tave, who felt keenly how ranch her dramatic scene lacked 
 completeness by the absence of the two persons for whose 
 benefit it had primarily been arranged. " Diane resents 
 what she calls my interference, and vehemently objects to 
 any revelation on your part ; while Adrien thought the 
 eleventh hour not too late to display a chivalrous confi- 
 dence, by refusing to hear anything she did not sanction." 
 
 " It does not matter," said Yvonne. "He will know
 
 322 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 everything from Diane instead of from me, that is all. She 
 will feel at liberty to speak now ; and will speak more will- 
 ingly because he has given, even late, this proof of confi- 
 dence. You were right in thinking that she was bound by 
 a pledge of secrecy before ; and bound, no doubt, by her 
 own pride also." 
 
 "And is it possible," said Colonel Varigny solemnly, 
 putting on his pince-nez again to regard the speaker, " that 
 you are the De Marsillac of whom we have heard so much, 
 who was in the West Indies with this this gentleman here ?" 
 
 " He can bear witness that I am/' replied Yvonne, with 
 another momentary glance towards Atherton. " No one 
 could know better ; for without his assistance I should 
 have failed in all I went to do. But let me tell you my 
 story from the beginning. I want to end all mystery and 
 misunderstanding, and induce Madame Varigny, as I hope 
 I shall, to look at me more kindly." 
 
 " I do not mean to look at you unkindly, Yvonne," said 
 Madame Varigny ; " but you cannot expect me to pretend 
 to approve a thing which fills me with horror. That you, 
 a French girl, brought up as our daughters are, should 
 have put on man's dress and gone alone to the West 
 Indies " 
 
 " It is true," said Yvonne, as the lady paused in a man- 
 ner which said more than any words. " It is, on the face 
 of it, a dreadful thing that I, a French girl as you say, 
 brought up as only French girls are, should have put on 
 man's dress and gone alone to the West Indies. I acknowl- 
 edge it, and I felt it ah, you can never guess how much ! 
 But there was one thing even more dreadful, and that was 
 not to go." 
 
 " Tell us what you mean, my dear," said Colonel 
 Varigny gently.
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 323 
 
 Yvonne looked at him gratefully. To plead a cause to 
 unsympathetic auditors is very difficult, and she saw that 
 she had no sympathy to expect from Madame Varigny until 
 her case was fully proved if even then. But here was an 
 auditor who was prepared to judge kindly. Yvonne was 
 proudly conscious that there was nothing in her conduct, 
 except its unconventionality, which needed condoning ; 
 but, still, she had a sense of comfort in addressing this lis- 
 tener, who stood ready to sympathize rather than condemn. 
 
 "I am anxious to tell you what I mean," she said. 
 "To be brief, then. I am sure you know of my mother's 
 pecuniary embarrassments. We never talked of them to 
 our friends, but they were very great. Year by year the 
 burden of our difficulties grew heavier and the problem of 
 life harder. Every sacrifice that could be made was made, 
 every self-denial practised. With the plantation I did all 
 that could be done without command of money " 
 
 Colonel Varigny nodded. 
 
 " You did well," he said emphatically. " No man could 
 have done better. It was not without reason they called 
 you on Bayou Teche ' the man of the family.' ' 
 
 "I suppose," Yvonne went on, "that from filling so 
 many of what are usually a man's duties, I came to have a 
 man's thoughts, as far as the family were concerned. I 
 had a knowledge of our affairs which no one else possessed, 
 not even Diane, because mamma consulted me about every- 
 thing ; and I had a sense of responsibility towards the 
 others, and a passionate longing to do something to remove 
 the weight of our troubles from my mother and to improve 
 our almost hopeless situation. I always said to myself that 
 if ever a chance arose by which I could do something, no 
 matter how hard, to gain those ends, I would do it at any 
 cost. And I meant what I said."
 
 324 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Those looking at her and listening to her were of the 
 opinion that she had fully proved that she meant what she 
 said. 
 
 " Of course you understand," she continued, " that the 
 great trouble was debt debt which we could not pay, 
 struggle as we might. And the worst debt of all was one 
 for which the plantation all that we had for our support 
 was mortgaged to a man without mercy. You know 
 him. His name is Burnham and he is the son of my grand- 
 father's overseer." 
 
 " I know him," said Colonel Varigny, this time grimly. 
 ' ' Every one knows him. He is, as you say, without mercy. ' ' 
 
 " Well, you can fancy what it was to be indebted to such 
 a man, and to have the debt always hanging over us. Last 
 November he came to my mother and told her that the 
 debt must be paid, or the mortgage would be foreclosed. 
 He offered her, however, one alternative, and that was to 
 accept his son as a husband for Diane." 
 
 " Yvonne !" cried Madame Varigny, and " Yvonne !" 
 gasped the Colonel ; while both added in a breath, ' ' Im- 
 possible !" 
 
 " It sounds like an old-fashioned melodrama, does it 
 not?" said Yvonne. " But it is true, nevertheless. Diane, 
 our Diane think of it ! had been chosen by this low-born 
 usurer as the wife of his son ; on the condition of which 
 marriage he would graciously leave my mother in possession 
 of her home during her life. My mother had but one im- 
 pulse to reject the proposal at once and let him do his 
 worst. But he insisted that she should take time for con- 
 sideration, and that Diane should be consulted. We con- 
 sulted her, never thinking it more than a mere form ; but, 
 to our horror, Diane declared that she would marry the 
 man. She said that it was the only thing she could do to
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 325 
 
 relieve my mother of troubles she had heretofore witnessed 
 helplessly, and that she was resolved to do it. Neither 
 argument nor remonstrance had any effect upon her ; for, 
 gentle as she is, Diane can be very obstinate 
 
 " There is not a doubt of that," observed Octave. 
 
 " The only concession we could gain was that she would 
 take no step to let the Burnhams know her resolve for 
 three months ; and I promised her I think, indeed, I took 
 a solemn oath that within that time I would, by God's 
 help, obtain the means to pay the debt, and so release her 
 from what she held to be the necessity to sacrifice herself. 
 When I made this promise I had no idea how I should keep 
 it ; but a few hours later God as I truly believe showed 
 me the way. I found in an old desk some papers relating 
 to the estates which my great-great-grandfather lost in 
 Santo Domingo ; and there among those papers, never seen 
 by any one until I discovered it, was a paper written by 
 Henri de Marsillac, telling his family that on the night of 
 the insurrection of the slaves, having need to fly for his 
 life, he had buried in the garden a large sum of money 
 which he had then in his possession, and indicating the 
 exact spot where it was to be found. Was it not natural 
 to believe that the money thus buried still remained undis- 
 turbed where he had placed it ?" 
 
 " There was at least a strong possibility that it might be 
 so," replied Colonel Varigny, at whom she looked. " A 
 probability strong enough to justify you in sending some 
 one to search " 
 
 "Ah !" she interposed quickly, "but where was that 
 some one to be found ? We have not a man belonging to 
 us. There was no friend of whom we could ask so great 
 a service ; and to send any agent save the most trust- 
 worthy would have been madness. I knew all this per-
 
 326 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 fectly, and I never thought of but one thing to go my- 
 self." 
 
 " Yvonne, Yvonne !" murmured Madame Varigny, as if 
 in late remonstrance. 
 
 " I told my mother so," said Yvonne, turning her beau- 
 tiful, wistful eyes upon the last speaker ; " and she de- 
 clared it was impossible, asking how could a girl go alone 
 and unprotected on such an errand. And then it was that, 
 like an inspiration, the thought came to me of this' 1 she 
 made a gesture indicating her masculine attire. " I said 
 that if I could not go as a girl I could go as a boy. I had 
 always felt as if I were a boy, and I knew that the dress 
 would be a complete disguise and protection. Indeed 
 think of it for a moment ! how could I have gone other- 
 wise ? Who was there to accompany me, who to protect 
 me? I am not speaking only of conventionality, of the 
 convenances which a French girl is brought up so strictly 
 to respect. It was more than a question of a chaperon : it 
 was a question of absolute danger such danger as no girl 
 could dare alone." She turned and for the first time ad- 
 dressed her most silent auditor. "Mr. Atherton," she 
 said, " will you tell them whether or not I could have done 
 what I did as a girl ?" 
 
 As if this were the appeal for which he had been waiting, 
 Atherton rose and came forward to her side. 
 
 " No," he answered, " you could not. This revelation," 
 he went on, addressing Madame Varigny, ' is a greater 
 astonishment to me than to you ; but, with my knowledge 
 of what it was that was undertaken, what difficulties sur- 
 rounded, and what absolute peril had to be risked in order 
 to accomplish it, I emphatically endorse all that has been 
 said. It was not possible for any girl, no matter how brave, 
 to have undertaken it."
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 327 
 
 'And yet," said Madame Varigny, smiling in spite 
 of herself, " it was a girl who did undertake it." 
 
 Athertori cast a confused glance upon the figure by his 
 side. 
 
 " So I am told," he said ; " but even yet it is difficult 
 for me to believe it difficult to credit that the boy who 
 bore himself so bravely even for a boy, through scenes 
 which I shudder to recall, was, after all, a girl. I do not 
 know what judgment you may have for such a deed," he 
 added, looking around the little circle ; " but to me it 
 seems nothing less than heroic." 
 
 " And so it was !" exclaimed Colonel Varigny, bringing 
 his hand down with emphasis upon the mantel-shelf, by 
 which he stood. " I never heard of anything so brave in 
 all my life. And you succeeded, Yvonne you succeeded ?" 
 
 Yvonne made a gesture of her hand towards Atherton. 
 
 " Thanks to him, yes," she answered. " I found the 
 money which freed my mother and Diane ; but I could 
 never have found it without his aid. And do you not 
 think now/' she added, addressing still wistfully Madame 
 Varigny, " that there is something to be said for me that 
 I had reason enough to justify even such a step ?" 
 
 Madame Varigny's answer was to rise and take her in her 
 arms. 
 
 " My dear," she said, " Mr. Atherton is right : it was 
 nothing less than heroic. I admire and love you with all 
 my heart. But, all the same, we must not allow this to be 
 known by the world, which respects conventionalities more 
 than heroic deeds. You will now come and lay aside this 
 dress forever ; and Mr. Atherton' ' she looked at him with 
 a smile so warm that it was like sunshine " must dine 
 with us this evening, in order that he may forget Henri de 
 Marsillac, and meet Miss Prevost."
 
 328 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " FORGET Henri de Marsillac, and meet Miss Prevost." 
 These words had not once ceased to echo through Ather- 
 ton's mind, like a refrain of which he hardly understood 
 the meaning, during the interval of time which elapsed be- 
 tween his departure from the Varigny house and his return 
 there, in accordance with Madame Varigny's invitation, for 
 dinner. Forget the boy whom he had taken into his heart, 
 against whom his indignation had been so deeply stirred, 
 and yet whom he had never ceased to regard with affection, 
 and find instead a young lady ! The thought was bewil- 
 dering ; and not less bewildering was his attempt to read- 
 just his mental attitude towards the person whose identity 
 had so suddenly and completely changed. He was conscious 
 chiefly of a mingled sense of exasperation and admiration 
 exasperation that the boy who had taken so deep a hold 
 of his fancy was vanished out of existence, had never in- 
 deed existed at all ; and admiration for the girl whose dar- 
 ing had been equal to such a task, and whose courage never 
 failed in its execution. 
 
 Looking back on the past, he found himself indeed lost 
 in wonder at the manner in which she had sustained her 
 part without faltering sustained it so completely as not to 
 excite his suspicion in the 'faintest degree. Never had he 
 for a moment thought of his companion as anything but a 
 boy, delicate, imaginative, fanciful perhaps, but altogether 
 virile. And lo ! all the time that companion had been a 
 girl. And not a girl who had been brought up without the 
 restraints and protections that in another day were deemed 
 essential for girlhood, who had been thrown upon the
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 329 
 
 world and forced to acquire independence of habit and 
 thought ; but a girl who came out of the heart of a country 
 and a race where old traditions are still in force, where 
 conventionalities are not relaxed, and the steps of a maiden 
 of good birth are still hedged with restrictions. A girl who 
 had never gone beyond the shelter of her home unprotect- 
 ed ; who, despite her dauntless courage, knew no more of 
 the world than a child, and shrank from all knowledge of 
 its rude reality as only a woman so constituted and so 
 trained can shrink ; yet who, putting aside all shrinking 
 and all fear, took a step from which the boldest of the New 
 Womanhood might draw back, and passed unscathed as 
 Una through the perils which encompassed her venture. 
 
 Thinking over it all, the heart of the man thrilled with 
 admiration, wonder, and yet exasperation, too. How great 
 must have been the power of love and the rare quality of 
 self-forgetfulness which could nerve such a woman to such 
 an undertaking ! How truly heroic was the deed and yet 
 how mad ! What if she had been discovered ! What if 
 she had not met himself ! What if he had been murdered 
 on the night when death passed so near to them in the re- 
 mote Haytian mountains ! How mad it was, and yet 
 there could be no question bow heroic ! 
 
 It was in a frame of mind made up of these sentiments 
 that he returned to the Varigny house, and was shown into 
 the drawing-room, where the revelation of the afternoon 
 had been made ; and where, instead of long shafts of sun- 
 light, there now reigned a soft glow of lamplight and fire- 
 light. In the first moment of his entrance the room 
 seemed to him empty waiting, in its luxurious spacious- 
 ness, its air of a transplanted Parisian interior, for the life 
 that was to fill it when suddenly a figure arose from a 
 shaded corner and came towards him.
 
 330 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 He paused, holding his breath. Was ever transforma- 
 tion so complete, and was ever likeness so great ? No, he 
 had not lost the boy whom he had known and loved. 
 Here was the same face, identical and unchanged, that had 
 smiled upon him through all their journeyings ; the same 
 eyes that had met his so frankly and so kindly a hundred 
 times, although it was a young lady, clad in shimmering 
 silk and cloud-like lace, who bore this well-remembered 
 head upon her slender neck, and extended to him the hand 
 he had once declared too small for any practical purpose, 
 but which now proved that it was not too small to give a 
 grasp of warmest friendship. 
 
 "It is not ' Miss Prevost,' " she said, answering his 
 thoughts as if they had been spoken ; " it is ' Henri de 
 Marsillac ' to you, Mr. Atherton, always always !" 
 
 " But what if I prefer Miss Prevost?" he said, with a 
 sudden rush of feeling which seemed to clear away all be- 
 wilderment and all conflicting sentiment. " Henri de Mar- 
 sillac was a delightful boy, and how much I have grieved 
 for his loss I can never tell you ; but Miss Prevost" he 
 paused a moment " is all that he was and more besides. 
 For what would have been merely daring in him takes the 
 higher name of heroism in her. " 
 
 " Thank you !" she said softly. " I have often wondered 
 what you would think if you knew the truth. I have won- 
 dered if you would be horror-struck, disgusted perhaps ; or 
 if you would think that the necessity justified the deed, as 
 it seemed to me that it did." 
 
 " I not only think that it justified the deed/' he an- 
 swered, " but I can hardly credit my own good fortune in 
 having met a woman capable of such a deed. Do you re- 
 member what I said to you once on the terrace of Mille- 
 fleurs about the type of woman I had always dreamed of ?
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 331 
 
 I little thought that I was speaking to one who fulfilled 
 the type, as well as bore the name which suggested it." 
 
 " I remember," she said. " Your words comforted me 
 at the time ; and made me hope that, if some day you 
 should learn the truth, you would not judge too hardly 
 one whom you had helped so kindly. ' ' 
 
 " And yet/' said he, almost sternly, " you went out of 
 my life without a word of explanation ; you cast me aside 
 like a tool you had used, and for which your use was over ; 
 you were content never to see or hear of me ag'ain " 
 
 " No, no !" she cried, her eyes filling with tears. " I 
 was not content. It seemed a necessity, but it almost 
 broke my heart. I have been wretched ever since, with 
 the sense of my ingratitude so wretched that all pleasure 
 in my success was obliterated. I cannot tell you what I 
 have thought, what I have felt ; but I can tell you that 
 the necessity to speak, to explain the mystery at last, made 
 me happier than I have been since we parted." 
 
 " But it was not for me you spoke at last. It was for 
 your sister, whose happiness this mystery menaced " 
 
 " In learning that, I learned also for the first time of 
 your presence here. To serve the other purpose, would 
 not a few words to Adrien Varigny have sufficed ? But I 
 heard that you were here ; and I could not but come, to 
 give, even so late, the confidence you had won a hundred 
 times over. " 
 
 " And for which I am a hundred times grateful,'* he re- 
 plied. " It has not come a moment too soon. I was going 
 away to-morrow, going to a life of lonely wandering, going 
 to try and banish forever from my mind the boy I had 
 grown to love. But now life takes another color and 
 meaning. I have recovered all that I lost, together with 
 much more, that my heart divined, though I was too dull
 
 332 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 to understand. But I understand now. And you, too, 
 Yvonne for I cannot but call you by the name that seems 
 made for you you, too, understand ; is it not so ? We 
 were friends and comrades when we were together, but has 
 not separation taught us that we are something more ? 
 Has it not made you feel, as it has surely made me, that 
 our meeting was no chance, and that we have need of each 
 other?" 
 
 She gave him one quick, radiant glance from moisture- 
 dimmed eyes, as he took her hand again. 
 
 " But I thought it was to be Diane," she murmured ; 
 " and I have grieved to think that you would be disap- 
 pointed. " 
 
 He laughed as he bent to kiss the hand he held. 
 
 "It was only to be Diane," he replied, " because I 
 dreamed of her as Yvonne. The disappointment came 
 when I found she was not Yvonne. But now I have 
 Yvonne herself." 
 
 " Have you ?" said Yvonne. " I am not sure of that. 
 For, after all, what do you know of her ? It is Henri de 
 Marsillac whom you want." 
 
 " It is you," he answered, " whatever you choose to call 
 yourself. Yes, I want Henri de Marsillac, my friend, my 
 companion, the boy who took such lodging in my heart 
 that not even anger availed to cast him out. But, still 
 more, I want Yvonne, the lady of my dreams, with the 
 courage of a man and the heart of a woman ; tender, 
 heroic, daring ah, words are too poor to say what I think 
 of her and how much I want her !" 
 
 "But/' she said, "can you ever forget that I mas- 
 queraded in boy's attire " 
 
 " I can never wish to forget it," he answered indignant- 
 ly. " Forget the deed which does you so much honor,
 
 THE MAtf OF THE FAMILY. 333 
 
 through which I knew you, for which I love you ! Ah, 
 Yvonne, this is folly ! My heart is yours has been yours 
 all along by some subtle instinct of its own, although I did 
 not know it. Tell me if you will take it now if you will 
 give me back my lost companion if you will make my life 
 worth living by sharing it with me ?" 
 
 The brave lady of his dreams would have had " no cun- 
 ning to be strange" when wooed by one to whose suit her 
 heart responded, and neither had Yvonne. As simple and 
 direct now as in every action of her life, her frank eyes met 
 his, lovelier than ever in the light which filled them, as 
 she said : 
 
 " It would make me happy to share your life I have 
 known that ever since we parted. I have missed you every 
 day, every hour. But you I have just heard from Diane 
 what would have almost broken my heart had I heard it 
 earlier : that you were so angry with me, so determined to 
 cast even my memory out of your life, that you wanted to 
 send back to me the one poor little token of me which you 
 possessed the ring I gave you." 
 
 " Yes," he admitted, " I did want to send it back ; for I 
 was furiously angry with you. But should I have been 
 angry if I had not cared for you so much ? Have you yet 
 to learn how near akin sometimes are anger and love ? As 
 for the ring, I will wear it even in my grave if you will let 
 me give you another a ruby it shall also be, to tell you 
 what love is by the deep fire in its heart." 
 
 " Give me what you please," she said simply. " I can 
 promise that nothing will ever make me desire to send it 
 back to you no, not if you went away to-morrow and 
 never returned." 
 
 " There is not much danger of such departure on my 
 part now," he laughed. " When I go you shall go with
 
 334 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 me, Yvonne ; and we will sail around the world, as I once 
 suggested that we should do you remember ?" 
 
 Yvonne suddenly started. 
 
 " Oh, what a selfish wretch I am !" she said, as if to her- 
 self. "I told you then, and it is as true now, that they 
 could not do without me at home." 
 
 " They must learn to do without you," said he, with tri- 
 umphant selfishness. " I need you more than they do ; 
 for no one could take your place with me, while with them 
 it may be filled. And I will take care, Yvonne, that it is 
 filled while we are putting a girdle around the earth." 
 
 The opening of the door at this moment prevented reply. 
 It was Octave who entered ; and towards her Atherton, 
 turning, led Yvonne. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he said, " since you have kindly played 
 the part of those fairies, Determination and Good Will, of 
 which you spoke a little while ago, and have by your act 
 ended a mystery which threatened the happiness of more 
 than two, it is fitting that you should be the first to hear 
 of the immediate consequence of what you have done." 
 
 " I have already heard of one immediate consequence, 
 which amply repays me for my efforts," answered Octave ; 
 " but if it is possible that there can be another ' 
 
 She paused and looked inquiringly at Yvonne ; but it 
 was Atherton who replied : 
 
 " Can a good fairy doubt what is the end ? We heard 
 this afternoon the story of a girl's high-hearted daring. 
 Let me add the sequel of a man's appreciation. Miss Pre- 
 vost is good enough to believe that in the journey which 
 we made together we learned enough of each other to ven- 
 ture the longer journey of life also together." 
 
 " Yvonne ! is it indeed so ?" cried Octave, flinging her 
 arms impulsively around the slender form. " Oh, how de-
 
 THE MAN" OF THE FAMILY. 335 
 
 lightful ! how romantic ! how perfectly appropriate ! This 
 is better than I ever hoped or dreamed. It is what should 
 be ; it makes everything proper and right, and ends the 
 story fitly. But how did you find time to fall in love with 
 each other while you were searching for that treasure ?" 
 
 " It was then we learned to know each other," answered 
 Yvonne. " Who does one know half so well as the person 
 with whom one has shared adventure and danger ?" 
 
 " I must take your word for that," said Octave ; " be- 
 cause I have never shared adventure and danger with any- 
 body, and I fear there is not the slightest hope that I ever 
 shall. Yvonne, are there no more treasures to be found 
 by another girl, who would almost die of pleasure if Fate 
 would grant her such an adventure and such a romance ?" 
 
 " There is some silver plate which was left behind," re- 
 plied Yvonne, smiling ; " but I would hardly advise your 
 going to seek it. You see, you might not meet another 
 paladin. I doubt if there is another to be found." 
 
 " I doubt it also," said Octave. " Well, one must not 
 be envious. You were made to do brave deeds, and it is 
 right that romance should crown heroism. Mr. Atherton," 
 turning to that gentleman, " I acknowledge that you are a 
 paladin and deserve your reward ; but I hope that you fitly 
 appreciate what you have won in winning our Yvonne." 
 
 " I think," he replied, " that I do appreciate it ; but 
 my life, not my words, must prove my assertion. Mean- 
 while she has, once for all, resigned her position as the 
 man of the family in my favor 
 
 " Ah, no !" cried Octave. " You are too late in apply- 
 ing for the position. It is already taken. Yvonne, have 
 you not told him ? Does he not know that Adrien has al- 
 ready been accepted to fill that place ?" 
 
 " I am delighted to hear what you intimate," replied
 
 336 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Atherton, smiling ; " but I must deny that any one save 
 the person who has already filled the position can ascept a 
 substitute for herself." 
 
 "Here he comes," said Octave, turning around as the 
 door again opened. " Now you can settle it between you. " 
 
 " There is nothing to settle," said Atherton, as Varigny 
 came forward. " I offer my warmest congratulations to 
 one who has won so fair a bride as Mademoiselle Diane ; 
 but I must still contend that the position which Yvonne has 
 held, Yvonne can alone bestow together with herself." 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE UNIVERSITY SERIES 
 
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