At these words a look of horror and anguish passed over the face of Le Croix, and he turned to Camilla, but she was deadly pale, and trembling like an aspen leaf; but her eyes were dry and tearless.

“Camilla,” said he, turning fiercely to his adopted sister, “Tell me, is there any truth in these words?  You are as pale as death, and trembling like a leaf,—­tell me if there is any truth in these words,” turning and fixing his eyes on Miriam, who stood like some ancient prophetess, her lips pronouncing some fearful doom, while she watched in breathless anguish the effect upon the fated victim.

“Yes, Louis,” said Camilla, in a voice almost choked by emotion.  “Yes, Louis, it is all true.”

“But how is this that I never heard it before?  Before I believe this tale I must have some proof, clear as daylight.  Bring me proofs.”

“Here they are,” said Miriam, drawing from her pocket the free papers she had been carrying about her person for several days.

Louis grasped them nervously, hastily read them, and then more slowly, like one who might read a sentence of death to see if there was one word or sentence on which he might hang a hope of reprieve.

Camilla watched him anxiously, but silently, and when he had finished, he covered his bowed face with his hands as he said with a deep groan, “It is true, too true.  I see it all.  I can never raise my hand against my mother’s race.”

He arose like one in a dream, walked slowly to the door and left the room.

“It was a painful task,” said Camilla, with a sigh of relief, as if a burden had fallen from her soul.

“Yes,” said Miriam, “but not so bad as to see him fighting agin his own color.  I’d rather follow him to his grave than see him join that miserable secesh crew.”

“Yes,” said Camilla, “It was better than letting him go.”

When Louis left the room a thousand conflicting thoughts passed through his mind.  He felt as a mariner at midnight on a moonless sea, who suddenly, when the storm is brewing, finds that he has lost his compass and his chart.

Chapter XIV

Where was he steering; and now, the course of his life was changed, what kind of future must he make for himself?

Had it been in time of peace, he could have easily decided, as he had a large amount of money in the North, which his father left him when he came of age.

He would have no difficulty as to choosing the means of living; for he was well supplied, as far as that was concerned; but here was a most unpleasant dilemma in which he had placed himself.

Convinced that he was allied to the Negro race, his whole soul rose up against the idea of laying one straw in its way; if he belonged to the race he would not join its oppressors.  And yet his whole sympathy had been so completely with them, that he felt that he had no feeling in common with the North.