a painful anxiety."

"A very painful anxiety," replied Jaspar.

"I understand, sir, you own a large plantation."

"Well."

"Perhaps you need an overseer?"

Jaspar acknowledged that he did need an overseer.

"I should be happy to make an engagement with you," said the other, in
complaisant tones.

"I don't think you would suit me. You are too genteel, by half,"
returned Jaspar, bluntly.

"I have been in a better position, it is true. I was born in France, but
I understand the business."

"Did you ever manage a gang of niggers?"

After a little hesitation, Dalhousie replied that he had.

"We will talk of it some other time," said Jaspar, satisfied, from the
air and manner of the other, that his statement was false.

Dalhousie put on his hat, and, taking the mourning ring from the table,
was about to enfold it in a bit of paper.

"What are you about, sir?" exclaimed Jaspar, as he witnessed the act.

"The ring is my property, is it not?" said Dalhousie.

"Put it down, or, by heavens, I will expose your rascality in taking
it!"

"Do not be hasty, sir. I have not studied your looks, the last hour,
without profiting by them."

"What do you mean by that?" said Jaspar, a little startled.

"I mean that the death of your niece does not seem to be received with
that degree of sorrow which an uncle would naturally feel."

"_Fool_! she was not my niece!"

"Why are you so anxious to establish her decease?"

"Was I anxious?" said Jaspar, not knowing how far he might have betrayed
himself.

"Quite enough so to convince even the most indifferent observer that you
were extremely rejoiced at the event," replied Dalhousie, willing to
make out a strong case.

Jaspar did not reply, and it was plain Dalhousie's remarks had had their
effect.

"But, Mr. Dumont, I flatter myself I am a man of discretion. As you were
saying, you need an overseer," said Dalhousie, with a glance at Jaspar,
which conveyed more meaning than his words.

The glance was irresistible, and Jaspar engaged him at a liberal salary,
as well as his wife, who was to be the housekeeper at Bellevue.
Dalhousie was a needy man. His fortunes were on the descending scale.
Born in France, he had emigrated to this country, with the chimerical
hope of speedily making a fortune. He could not build up the coveted
temple stone by stone, but wished it to rise like a fairy castle. With
such views, he had wandered about the country with his wife (whom he had