“I can’t say I do,” replied Winston, reflectively.

“She came here,” continued Mr. Ellis, “some years ago, and died soon after her arrival.  Her daughter went to live with the Thomases, an old Philadelphia family, and it was from their house I married her.”

“Thomases?” repeated Mr. Winston; “that is where I saw your boy—­he is the image of you.”

“And how came you there?” asked Ellis, with a look of surprise.

“In the most natural manner possible.  I was invited there to dinner yesterday—­the bright face of your boy attracted my attention—­so I inquired his name, and that led to the discovery of yourself.”

“And do the Thomases know you are a coloured man?” asked Mr. Ellis, almost speechless with astonishment.

“I rather think not,” laughingly rejoined Mr. Winston.

“It is a great risk you run to be passing for white in that way,” said Mr. Ellis, with a grave look.  “But how did you manage to get introduced to that set?  They are our very first people.”

“It is a long story,” was Winston’s reply; and he then, as briefly as he could, related all that had occurred to himself since they last met.  “And now,” continued he, as he finished his recital, “I want to know all about you and your family; and I also want to see something of the coloured people.  Since I’ve been in the North I’ve met none but whites.  I’m not going to return to New Orleans to remain.  I’m here in search of a home.  I wish to find some place to settle down in for life, where I shall not labour under as many disadvantages as I must struggle against in the South.”

“One thing I must tell you,” rejoined Mr. Ellis; “if you should settle down here, you’ll have to be either one thing or other—­white or coloured.  Either you must live exclusively amongst coloured people, or go to the whites and remain with them.  But to do the latter, you must bear in mind that it must never be known that you have a drop of African blood in your veins, or you would be shunned as if you were a pestilence; no matter how fair in complexion or how white you may be.”

“I have not as yet decided on trying the experiment, and I hardly think it probable I shall,” rejoined Winston.  As he said this he took out his watch, and was astonished to find how very long his visit had been.  He therefore gave his hand to Mr. Ellis, and promised to return at six o’clock and accompany him home to visit his family.

As he was leaving the shop, Mr. Ellis remarked:  “George, you have not said a word respecting your mother.”  His face flushed, and the tears started in his eyes, as he replied, in a broken voice, “She’s dead!  Only think, Ellis, she died within a stone’s throw of me, and I searching for her all the while.  I never speak of it unless compelled; it is too harrowing.  It was a great trial to me; it almost broke my heart to think that she perished miserably so near me, whilst I was in the enjoyment of every luxury.  Oh, if she could only have lived to see me as I am now!” continued he; “but He ordered it otherwise, and we must bow.  ’Twas God’s will it should be so.  Good bye till evening.  I shall see you again at six.”