Mrs. King listened in sad silence.  The Mr. Fitzgerald of this description was so unlike the elegant young gentleman who had won her girlish love, that she could not recognize him as the same person.

“Did Mr. Fitzgerald die before you left?” inquired Flora.

“I don’t know when or how he died,” replied Mrs. Bright; “but I have my suspicions.  Out of regard to Mrs. Fitzgerald, I have never mentioned them to any one but my husband; and if I name them to you, ladies, I trust you will consider it strictly confidential.”

They promised, and she resumed.

“I never pried into the secrets of the family, but I could not help learning something about them, partly from my own observation, and inferences drawn therefrom, and partly from the conversation of Venus, my talkative waiting-maid.  She told me that her master married a Spanish lady, the most beautiful lady that ever walked the earth; and that he conveyed her away secretly somewhere after he married the milk-face, as she called Mrs. Fitzgerald.  Venus was still good-looking when I knew her.  From her frequent remarks I judge that, when she was young, her master thought her extremely pretty; and she frequently assured me that he was a great judge ‘ob we far sex.’  She had a handsome mulatto daughter, whose features greatly resembled his; and she said there was good reason for it.  I used to imagine Mrs. Fitzgerald thought so too; for she always seemed to owe this handsome Nelly a grudge.  Mr. Fitzgerald had a body-servant named Jim, who was so genteel that I always called him ‘Dandy Jim o’ Caroline.’  Jim and Nelly were in love with each other; but their master, for reasons of his own, forbade their meeting together.

“Finding that Nelly tried to elude his vigilance, he sold Jim to a New Orleans trader, and the poor girl almost cried her handsome eyes out.  A day or two after he was sold, Mr. Fitzgerald and his lady went to Beaufort on a visit, and took their little son and daughter with them.  The walls of my sleeping-room were to be repaired, and I was told to occupy their chamber during their absence.  The evening after they went away, I sat up rather late reading, and when I retired the servants were all asleep.  As I sat before the looking-glass, arranging my hair for the night, I happened to glance toward the reflection of the bed, which showed plainly in the mirror; and I distinctly saw a dark eye peeping through an opening in the curtains.  My heart was in my throat, I assure you; but I had the presence of mind not to cry out or to jump up.  I continued combing my hair, occasionally glancing toward the eye.  If it be one of the negroes, thought I, he surely cannot wish to injure me, for they all know I am friendly to them.  I tried to collect all my faculties, to determine what it was best to do.  I reflected that, if I alarmed the servants, he might be driven to attack me in self-defence.  I began talking aloud to myself, leisurely taking off my cuffs and