Maxwell suggests that his not having bought the child would certainly give him the right to control his own flesh and blood:  but he knows little of slave law, and less of its customs.  He, however, was anxious to draw from Marston full particulars of the secret that would disclose Clotilda’s history, over which the partial exposition had thrown the charm of mystery.  Several times he was on the eve of proffering his services to relieve the burden working upon Marston’s mind; but his sympathies were enlisted toward the two unfortunate women, for whom he was ready to render good service, to relieve them and their children.  Again, he remembered how singularly sensitive Southerners were on matters concerning the peculiar institution, especially when approached by persons from abroad.  Perhaps it was a plot laid by Marston to ascertain his feelings on the subject, or, under that peculiar jealousy of Southerners who live in this manner, he might have discovered his interview with Clotilda, and, in forming a plan to thwart his project, adopted this singular course for disarming apprehensions.

At this stage of the proceedings a whispering noise was heard, as if coming from another part of the room.  They stopped at the moment, looked round with surprise, but not seeing anything, resumed the conversation.

“Of whom did you purchase?” inquired Maxwell, anxiously.

“One Silenus; a trader who trades in this quality of property only, and has become rich by the traffic.  He is associated with Anthony Romescos, once a desperado on the Texan frontier.  These two coveys would sell their mossmates without a scruple, and think it no harm so long as they turned a dime.  They know every justice of the peace from Texas to Fort M’Henry.  Romescos is turned the desperado again, shoots, kills, and otherwise commits fell deeds upon his neighbour’s negroes; he even threatens them with death when they approach him for reparation.  He snaps his fingers at law, lawyers, and judges:  slave law is moonshine to those who have no rights in common law-”

“And he escapes?  Then you institute laws, and substitute custom to make them null.  It is a poor apology for a namesake.  But do you assert that in the freest and happiest country-a country that boasts the observance of its statute laws-a man is privileged to shoot, maim, and torture a fellow-being, and that public opinion fails to bring him to justice?” ejaculated Maxwell.

“Yes,” returns Marston, seriously; “it is no less shameful than true.  Three of my negroes has he killed very good-naturedly, and yet I have no proof to convict him.  Even were I to seek redress, it would be against that prejudice which makes the rights of the enslaved unpopular.”