“I always feel sorry,” said Camille, “when I see one of those Creole girls brought to the auction block.  I have known fathers who were deeply devoted to their daughters, but who through some reverse of fortune were forced to part with them, and I always think the blow has been equally terrible on both sides.  I had a friend who had two beautiful daughters whom he had educated in the North.  They were cultured, and really belles in society.  They were entirely ignorant of their lineage, but when their father died it was discovered that their mother had been a slave.  It was a fearful blow.  They would have faced poverty, but the knowledge of their tainted blood was more than they could bear.”

“What became of them?”

“They both died, poor girls.  I believe they were as much killed by the blow as if they had been shot.  To tell you the truth, Bastine, I feel sorry for this girl.  I don’t believe she has the least idea of her negro blood.”

“No, Leroy has been careful to conceal it from her,” replied Bastine.

“Is that so?” queried Camille.  “Then he has made a great mistake.”

“I can’t help that,” said Bastine; “business is business.”

“How can you get her away?” asked Camille.  “You will have to be very cautious, because if these pesky Abolitionists get an inkling of what you’re doing they will balk your game double quick.  And when you come to look at it, isn’t it a shame to attempt to reduce that girl to slavery?  She is just as white as we are, as good as any girl in the land, and better educated than thousands of white girls.  A girl with her apparent refinement and magnificent beauty, were it not for the cross in her blood, I would be proud to introduce to our set.  She would be the sensation of the season.  I believe to-day it would be easier for me to go to the slums and take a young girl from there, and have her introduced as my wife, than to have society condone the offense if I married that lovely girl.  There is not a social circle in the South that would not take it as a gross insult to have her introduced into it.”

“Well,” said Bastine, “my plan is settled.  Leroy has never allowed her to spend her vacations at home.  I understand she is now very anxious to get home, and, as Lorraine’s attorney, I have come on his account to take her home.”

“How will you do it?”

“I shall tell her her father is dangerously ill, and desires her to come as quickly as possible.”

“And what then?”

“Have her inventoried with the rest of the property.”

“Don’t she know that her father is dead?”

“I think not,” said Bastine.  “She is not in mourning, but appeared very light-hearted this morning, laughing and talking with two other girls.  I was struck with her great beauty, and asked a gentleman who she was.  He said, ‘Miss Leroy, of Mississippi.’  I think Lorraine has managed the affair so as to keep her in perfect ignorance of her father’s death.  I don’t like the job, but I never let sentiment interfere with my work.”