Families might be seen here and there making their little preparations to leave for the hills:  the direful scourge to them was an evil spirit, sent as a visitation upon their bad deeds.  This they sincerely believe, coupling it with all the superstition their ignorance gives rise to.  A few miles from the mansion, among the pines, rude camps are spread out, fires burn to absorb the malaria, to war against mosquitoes, to cook the evening meal; while, up lonely paths, ragged and forlorn-looking negroes are quietly wending their way to take possession.  The stranger might view this forest bivouac as a picture of humble life pleasantly domiciled; but it is one of those unfortunate scenes, fruitful of evil, which beset the planter when he is least able to contend against them.  Such events develope the sin of an unrighteous institution, bring its supporters to the portals of poverty, consign harmless hundreds to the slave-marts.

In this instance, however, we must give Marston credit for all that was good in his intentions, and separate him from the system.  Repentance, however produced, is valuable for its example, and if too late for present utility, seldom fails to have an ultimate influence.  Thus it was with Marston; and now that all these inevitable disasters were upon him, he resolved to be a father to Annette and Nicholas,—­those unfortunates whom law and custom had hitherto compelled him to disown.

Drawing his chair close to Maxwell, he lighted a cigar, and resumed the disclosure his feelings had apparently interrupted a few minutes before.  “Now, my good friend, all these things are upon me; there is no escaping the issue.  My people will soon be separated from me; my old, faithful servants, Bob and Harry, will regret me, and if they fall into the hands of a knave, will die thinking of the old plantation.  As for Harry, I have made him a preacher,—­his knowledge is wonderfully up on Scripture; he has demonstrated to me that niggers are more than mortal, or transitory things.  My conscience was touched while listening to one of his sermons; and then, to think how I had leased him to preach upon a neighbouring plantation, just as a man would an ox to do a day’s work!  Planters paid me so much per sermon, as if the gospel were merchandise, and he a mere thing falsifying all my arguments against his knowledge of the Word of God.  Well, it makes me feel as if I were half buried in my own degradation and blindness.  And then, again, they are our property, and are bestowed upon us by a legal-”

“If that be wrong,” interrupted Maxwell, “you have no excuse for continuing it.”