“Have you seen them, sir,” inquired Gerald.

“No,” replied the merchant.  “That would have been unpleasant, without being of any use.  When a disagreeable duty is to be done, the quicker it is done the better.  Captain Kane took ’em down to Castle Island last night; but it won’t do for them to stay there.  The Abolitionists will ferret ’em out, and be down there with their devilish habeas corpus.  I want you to go on board ‘The King Cotton,’ take the captain aside, and tell him, from me, to remove them forthwith from Castle Island, keep them under strong guard, and skulk round with them in the best hiding-places he can find, until a ship passes that will take them to New Orleans.  Of course, I need not caution you to be silent about this affair, especially concerning the slaves being mortgaged to me.  If that is whispered abroad, it will soon get into the Abolition papers that I am a man-stealer, as those rascals call the slaveholders.”

The young man obeyed his instructions to the letter; and having had some difficulty in finding Captain Kane, he was unable to dress for quite so early a call at the Revere House as he had intended.  “How much trouble these niggers give us!” thought he, as he adjusted his embroidered cravat, and took his fresh kid gloves from the box.

* * * * *

When Mr. Blumenthal went home to dine that day, the ladies of the household noticed that he was unusually serious.  As he sat after dinner, absently playing a silent tune on the table-cloth, his wife touched his hand with her napkin, and said, “What was it so long ago, Florimond?”

He turned and smiled upon her, as he answered:  “So my fingers were moving to the tune of ‘Long, long ago,’ were they?  I was not conscious of it, but my thoughts were with the long ago.  Yesterday afternoon, as I was passing across State Street, I heard a cry of ‘Stop thief!’ and I saw them seize a young man, who looked like an Italian.  I gave no further thought to the matter, and pursued the business I had in hand.  But to-day I have learned that he was a slave, who escaped in ’The King Cotton’ from New Orleans.  I seem to see the poor fellow’s terrified look now; and it brings vividly to mind something dreadful that came very near happening, long ago, to a person whose complexion is similar to his.  I was thinking how willingly I would then have given the services of my whole life for a portion of the money which our best friend here has enabled me to acquire.”

“What was the dreadful thing that was going to happen, papa?” inquired Rosa.

“That is a secret between mamma and I,” he replied.  “It is something not exactly suitable to talk with little girls about, Rosy Posy.”  He took her hand, as it lay on the table, and pressed it affectionately, by way of apology for refusing his confidence.