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the breeze sighed, and the nightingale began its song, and young hearts held their commune; and so one stage passed, and another was to be entered on. The boy and girl were man and woman the playfellows lovers. Around them love threw a bright light; before them-before all -stood trial and suspense.

So we passed on into life, Gerald to his Hussar regiment, I to the Temple and the law. Rose passed like a sunbeam betwixt her home and Penhaddoc, doing the mission of the loving heart-shedding in turn a light on each hearth.

Time went on, and we all met again, about three months before the period named by the cousin for the final answer to his proposal. Great events (ay, they were both great events to us, though the one loomed larger and vaster than the other) had called us together. The war-the war of the Hundred Days-had broken out, and Gerald was going forth to the battle-field. I, too, had my mission. Trevenna, hopeless of getting the necessary information otherwise, had resolved on sending out an agent to Barbadoes, to make all and every inquiry and investigation into the nature of the tie which bound him; and I volunteered to go also. I had come to say farewell; so had Gerald. How differently was it said and heard! Around him were shed tears and sobs, and blessings and prayers: a few cold wishes, coldly kind farewells, sped me forth; and yet I was going forth for others. The mission of good will often passes thus unknown and unhailed, whilst that of self or glory is cheered and hurrahed. Yet it bears its compensation. Yes,

yes; after long, long years, I feel that.

As I left, Quamino waylaid me, and, drawing me mysteriously aside, said

"You go to Barbadoes, massa. You do Quamino a favour. You ask for me old Mammy-old Mammy Quamino. She lib on Massa John's place. She berry ole now. You gib her dis little money. Me know she buy rum wid him; but neber mind. And you tell her me berry well and berry fat, and dat Domingo dead, and Pepperpot live and frisky; and" -after a pause, as if struggling betwixt the tie of caste and the love of his master, he jerked out—“You ask her bout Massa John's moder's pedigree. You ask dat; she know all. Him call me damned nigger. Hi!— p'haps more nigger dan dis here. Him trike my shins. Hi!-me find hole in him blanket p'haps. Hi! You ask dat.”

And with this mysterious message he disappeared.

Good-night! 'Twas a sad goodnight this time for poor Rose. In the little chamber, by the little white-curtained bed, she sat sobbing, or knelt praying, or rose and looked forth on the old hawthorn tree; and then she knelt, and sobbed, and prayed, and looked again, on through the long dreary watches of the night. And for long days and nights yet to come, she would so watch, and think, and pray.

No mother was near her now; but the guardian presencesdid they not then fold closely round the fair young head, and breathe a spirit-comfort into that young mourning heart?

CHAPTER XV.

The scene is changed. We are in the West Indies-in Barbadoes. The hot tropic sun is shining; dark faces are grinning at us, and harsh voices clash on our ears; and we pass over hot dust and sand; through rows of shingle houses, hot and dingy-looking, with old crones at the door-steps, or sable piccaninnies twisting and pivoting in the little scooped holes in which they are planted; on through

avenues of cocoa-palms, stately and sombre, to the planters' houses, and there, day by day, we make our inquiries and carry on our investigation, never getting nearer the end, though often led by delusions and stories. Much we see and hear of the two plantations. We see in one order-plenty-well-fed slaves, merry and light-hearted; in the other waste, negligence, scowling faces, and dull

said, more composedly; "me Mammy Quamino."

I then told her of her son, gave his message, and her dull eyes lighted a little; gave her the gold, and they shone.

"So de boy berry well-eh? and him with Massa Roger still. Ah, Massa Roger berry good man-a leetle bad when him hab dat woman, but him good heart-him good heart for nigger. Oh, dat noting, saar," she answered to my glance, as the moans came more frequently from within; "oh, dat noting, only me granchild; Missey hab him flog dis evening. She always flog-look at him." She pushed the door open as she spoke, and there lay a boy, almost a child, with his back bleeding, writhing and turning in a little heap of leaves.

Quamino's hint about the pedigree now flashed across me. "By Missey you mean young Trevenna's mother. Your son told me to ask you about her pedigree."

brooding hearts. But of the one thing we wanted we could learn nothing; all the papers we had access to, all the transfers and bills of sale up to a certain time-up to the drawing of the contract-were all in the joint name of the brothers, and all seemed to include the slaves as part and parcel of the property. To the lawyer mind of my companion, it seemed beyond a doubt, that if the property were given up, so must the slaves be; but it struck him as quite possible that the compact might not include any wealth which was afterwards accumulated or saved. This, however, would be a small comfort, a partial result of our labours, if the great aim were missed-the great object defeated. So, however, it seemed; and we were preparing to return, depressed and disheartened at our failure-I at having done nought for those I loved; he at being baffled in his professional research. A few days before the ship in which we had taken our passage was to sail, I bethought me of Quamino's message and trust, and set forth one sultry evening in search of his mammy. After much trouble, and many wondering queries what Massa could want of ole Mammy Quamino, I came on a lone shingle hut in a corner of the plantation; an overhanging bank and a neighbouring palm-tree threw a half shade over it, but it was a bare, dreary, comfortless spot. Some half gourds lay on the ground, and at the door, half lying, half crouching, was an old, very old negro woman; her skinny arms were stretched out, and her head-bald, save for little stray knobs or patches of grey hair-was laid between them. She was muttering to herself, and listening to moans which came at times from within, and then her hands and her voice would be lifted as if in cursing. It was some time ere I ventured to make my presence known. At last I said, "Is this Mammy Quamino's

house?"

"Ah, who want me?-who talk of Mammy Quamino?" she almost shrieked out, as she started and sat bolt upright, showing a face ghastly with age, want, and passion. "You want to speak me, saar?" she then

"What dat you say?" she shrieked out, her eyes glaring, and her whole frame stiffening; what dat you say? my son want me to tell de pedigree. No, me nebber do dat-me feel de honour of de house — me suckle Missey at dis breast-me no tell-nebber-nebber." At that moment the moans within became almost yells. She trembled and shook, and looked and gabbered at me until I thought her senses had gone; and at last, clutching me close to her, hissed in my ear-"Yes, me tell; p'haps Massa Roger want to know; me tell. Missey's moder, she slave; de master marry her, but nebber sign de paper; she nebber free, she slave; Missey slave - her son slave-all slave. Yes, Missey slave-all slave!" and thus she continued, rocking to and fro, moaning and muttering to herself. Nothing more would she say, and, in fact, seemed scarcely sensible of aught; so I left, and on joining my companion, told him my story. He caught at the clue as a bloodhound catches up the lost scent, and ran on slowly, but perseveringly and untiringly. He ransacked all the records of manumission, searched well into all records and archives, but nowhere could he find evidence or

trace that the mother of the woman whom the elder John Trevenna married, had ever been made free. She had lived with her master, and had been brought up by him, educated, and had been made free, it was thought, yet nowhere could proof of this be found, and there seemed reason to think that the old negro woman spoke the truth. Thus, John Trevenna, born of a slave, would have no rights, no claims, no inheritance.

"We have them now," said Steele the lawyer, rubbing his hands; "we

will meet them with this; and when the contract is shown, ask for the paper of manumission-the proof that he is by law free-born. We must not tell this to Trevenna, or his conscience will boggle at it; we must bide the time, and bring in our blow at the right moment.'

We sailed homewards; and the good tidings I was bringing buoyed up my heart, and I felt within the joy and satisfaction of achievement. I had not gone forth for naught.

CHAPTER XVI.

We were in England-in the great city of Liverpool. Absorbed with my own projects, my own mission, I had forgotten that other interests were agitating the world-that great events were swaying men to and fro with fears and doubts and hopes. My own triumph, my own success, were all-engrossing, and I was therefore somewhat startled-nettled, perhaps that all minds, all thoughts seemed preoccupied and engaged. The streets, the quays, were all alive with moving masses--all excited and agitated with some great news. In every face there was exultation-in every voice a tone of triumph and rejoicing. The joy-bells rang the same note-bonfires blazed-bands took up the sound of jubilee. Men seemed mad almost with the frenzy of triumph-the air vibrated with it. The word Victory swelled from mouth to mouth, flashed from eye to eye, and ran like an electric touch from heart to heart. Women caught it up, passed it onwards-though here and there was a pale cheek and tearful eye, and a boding heart, awaiting to hear the death-roll read; children shouted it out, and ran about the vast crowd, dancing, and re-echoing the news they heard." What news?" "Why, where have you come from? News? Why, Bony has been beaten -well beaten by our Duke!" The news of the great victory at Waterloo had come, and was vibrating throughout the nation, sweeping along all hearts in one full tide of triumph. A was rejoicing,

and poor single individual hearts could not be heard or felt.

It is the fate of some men to achieve their successes at times, when some great interest, some great event, overshadows and overpowers all private effort or private feelingwhen the individual is overlooked or forgotten in the mass. So was it with me now. I was bearing within me a knowledge which would perhaps make a few hearts happy-would gladden one small circle of humanity - and here came tidings which spoke to the souls of millions, which bore joy from town to town, from homestead to homestead, and which here and there tolled knells deep and mournful, and everywhere roused deep utterances of thanksgivings. What was I? what was my mission? what could they be amid all this? Nought, nought, as the bubble by the bank when the full tide flows on, as the straw which is caught and eddied along when an inundation is swelling and sweeping over a land. So we went on and on homewards. Everywhere the highways were thronged, the streets crowded with eager multitudes, all eager, all anxious for tales from the battle-field. Heads were thrust from windowsmen came forth in their shirtscoachmen and guards were beset, torn with questions which their meagre information could little satisfy. All they knew was that it was a glorious victory. On we came to Dunbrook; familiar faces were around me, familiar

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ear.

voices anticipated my news; and how smiles, and prayers, and thanksgivings followed my utterance when I read Gerald's name among the slightly wounded! The colour came back into Rose's cheeks, and the brightness into her eye; but there was ever a tremulous motion of her lips, which told that she was praying out her thanks; and the mothers were sunk in silent thanksgiving; and the Squire stood up firm and strong again, affecting to treat the danger as a pleasantry, though there was a moisture in the eye which belied him.

Yet none seemed to notice or heed me, or know where I had gone, or why I came. Even those most interested, did little more than welcome me. Not a voice said, How have you sped? So was it in the old room at Penhaddoc. There was Rose, pale, pensive, trembling; the Squire trying to bear a brave part, but show. ing the nervous touch of lip and eye; the mothers fluttered and tearful; the fearful list had not yet come, and none knew whether Gerald was among the living or the dead. I was of no use, then-no use there ; so forth again I started to get the much longed-for intelligence, and I brought it; and then how my coming was heralded and welcomed; how steps came forth to meet me, and eager

And the life of this one man was more, more to all, than the many whose interests my mission concerned.

CHAPTER XVII.

The day was come-the day appointed for the final decision, and we were all at Trevenna's house awaiting the cousin. Gerald had come, had come with despatches, and was sit ting by Rose's side. As he had said, the one great fight had stamped the impress of manhood firmly and indelibly on him, and he observed to me, too, "Why, old fellow, you look so much older and wiser;" and perhaps it was so. Events ripen men more than time, and the strength of an acted resolve was reflecting itself in form and face. Rose was all radiant, all beaming, and could do nought save look into her lover's face, or stroke the scar which the Squire swore the jackanapes had given himself to look interesting, though he acknowledged in an under-tone that he believed the Grenfell blood had never produced a finer fellow, and that he had certainly grown a man, of whom the old ancestry need not be ashamed. There was a swing of the gate, and the cousin came up the garden path, swaggering and flaunting, and looking defiant. He was rather dazzled at seeing the assemblage and the number of calm, unmoved faces; but conscious of the power he held, his native assurance soon returned, and he had scarcely exchanged the ordinary courtesies

with his uncle and cousins ere he began.

Now, then, uncle, by seeing all your friends here, and the lawyer there, I suppose you are made up for a fight, so the sooner we begin the better. Now, then, you know my terms, the management of the estate now, or I secure it and the niggers for ever, by selling the reversion; and I have already put in my protest against the manumission of a single nigger till this thing is decided. There's the bond, lawyer; you can make the most of that."

The keen eye fell over it with apparent calmness, but with earnest attent. Quickly, yet surely, it scanned every word, and digested every term.

"We acknowledge this," he said, slowly and coolly. "My friend and client will not dispute it; it bears his name, and he will abide by it. Twould seem, too, that the slaves are included in the property and the agreement. We may perhaps defend your claim to a right in the after-profits; but, first of all, as a form, you know, we must demand proof of your being the rightful legal heir of John Trevenna, and request to see the ticket of manumission granted to your mother's mother, as she, we know from evidence, was a

:

born slave of course, you can show it; but we must proceed by forms." None seemed to heed this demand much, or as of any importance; none, save the cousin. On him it struck like a thunderclap. His face grew yellow with pallor; his eyes glared fiercely round and round, but met nothing save strong confident glances; he gasped for breath, and sank almost helplessly into a chair. Starting up with a fierce effort, he rushed at Steele, and said,—“This is a quibble, lawyer-a cursed quibble. You know I'm free born, so does uncle. Wasn't my mother old Veaner's heiress, and isn't that enough?"

"I am afraid we must require more," was the steady answer. We must see the paper of manumission, or have evidence of its existence. None is to be found in Barbadoes, at least." "You have been there, then, spying, have you? Ah! there's your informer, is it," he said, as Quamino appeared and disappeared at the door. "You've been tampering with these infernal niggers, who'll swear black is white, or white black, to serve a turn. That old hag has been tattling, I s'pose; but we'll try the law yet. And now I'm got up, I'll have the bond to the letter. You can't make us show the ticket. Everybody knows 'twas made out; and I'll fight this cheat, this quibbler, whilst I've a drop of blood or an acre to spare."

His eyes were quite bloodshot now -his forehead covered with clammy sweat, and his face blood red-his limbs quivering and shaking with passion.

"This temper is of no use, my good sir," said the lawyer. "We are not pretending to quibble or dispute; but we must ask if you are prepared to prove yourself the free-born son of John Trevenna. Otherwise this bond is naught is neither binding in law nor honour."

He had risen and tried to speak, but his voice would not come-words would not flow-and with a heavy muttered curse, and a withering look, he was about to dash out through the open door when Trevenna's voice stopped him.

"John, John-Nephew, stop and hear me.' What was the change in

the man as he spoke? There were the same features-the same lookyet it seemed as though a bright light, some mysterious influence had fallen on him; such as tales say magic power can shed over men and things. It was the clear soul and the free heart shining out through the man, and manifesting themselves.

'Listen, John. I never heard this before; never guessed-never dreamed of it. It came to me now for the first time-a revelation and a surprise. But think not I will take advantage of the power thus gained, for ought save to benefit the poor slaves on my estate. If what I hear be true, you would be one of them. As soon as forms can be drawn out, that shall be cancelled; you and yours shall be free beyond doubt, beyond cavil. The bond was between brothers who loved one another. He believed you a freeborn son so did I. It shall still be binding. This is my proposal: I will give you now the value of my slaves to free you from your difficulty, and reserve to myself the power of dealing with them as I will. The estate shall pass to you at my death. What I have saved since shall be Rose's portion-and a fair one, too. So let there be peace between us. So let old memories pass away; and the last atonement for the past be offered," he added, in a low voice.

For an instant the West Indian seemed about to hurl defiance on all, and to dare consequences, when his look softened, and his heart changed, and he stepped towards his unclekissed his hand, and went forth with his hat over his brows, and a tottering step. That kiss was a sign of peace. All felt it to be so, and that the end of the trial was come; and that henceforth there would only be light on the hearth-brightness in the future.

Oh, don't look at me," said Steele. "Here is the fellow who did it all. He found it out. You must thank him." And I looked around to meet these thanks as my rightful meed; but Rose's eyes were bent on Gerald's -the Squire had grasped Trevenna by the hand. The mothers were looking on their children. I was nothing

-I, who had brought all this peace, all this happiness. So another stage was passed, another act ended.

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