“Yes, Delia, and our fortune is at last come,” replied Dalhousie, rising, and bestowing a kiss upon the fair cheek of the lady.

“Is it from France?”

“No, dear; it is from the land of spirits!” answered Dalhousie, with a good-natured laugh.

“Indeed!  I was not aware that you had a correspondent there.”

“But I have; and I am exceedingly obliged to him for putting me in possession of such useful information as this letter contains.”

“Pray, who is your ghostly correspondent?”

“Colonel Dumont,—­a deceased brother of the worthy Jaspar, in whose employ we now are.”

“Do not jest, Francois!” said the lady, as a feeling akin to superstition rose in her mind.

“Jest or not, the letter was written by him,” continued her husband, still retaining his playful smile.

“To you?”

“Not exactly; but I presume he meant it for me, or it would not have slipped so easily through Mr. Dumont’s fingers into mine.”

“To whom is it directed, Francois?”

“You grow inquisitive, Delia.  I will tell you all about it in a few days.  I must go now and see that the hands are all in their quarters;” and Dalhousie, to avoid unpleasant interrogatories, left the room.

The overseer went the rounds of the quarters, more as a matter of form than of any interest he felt in his occupation.  A gentleman by birth and education, these duties were extremely distasteful to him,—­embraced because necessity compelled him.  His mind seemed far away from his business, for a party of negroes passed him on his return, upon whom he did not bestow the usual benediction the boys receive when found out after hours.

“Strike while the iron is hot,” muttered he, as he entered the house, and gave his lantern to a servant.  “If I don’t do it to-night, it may be too late another time.  The letter is in safe hands; and, as to the other traps, I must get them if I can.  At any rate, I will try.”

Approaching the door of the library, he knocked, and was requested to enter.  Under pretence of receiving directions for his next day’s operations upon the plantation, he entered, and opened a conversation with Jaspar.  Walking carelessly up and down the room while his employer issued his commands, he occasionally cast a furtive glance at the secretary.  Then, narrowing down his walk, he approached nearer and nearer to it, until his swinging arm could touch it as he passed.  Finally he stopped, and leaned against the secretary, with his hands behind him.  He appeared very thoughtful and attentive, while Jaspar, glad to find a theme he could converse upon, expatiated upon his favorite methods of managing stock and crops.  The overseer listened patiently to all he said, occasionally interrupting with a word of approbation.  The enthusiastic planter, suspecting nothing of the overseer, labored diligently in his argument, and did not notice that, when the attentive listener carelessly put his hands into his pockets, he conveyed with them the key of one of the drawers.