nto his household. Any
other conception seemed impossible, too monstrous, too preposterous for
consideration. But now the solemn words of the lawyer, his own legal
counselor, brought conviction, and for the moment all power of speech
deserted me. It was actually true then--the girl was a slave, a thing
belonging to Kirby. Nothing broke the stillness within the cabin,
except the sharp crackling of flames in the open fireplace, and the
heavy breathing of the negro. He was seated on the edge of the bed,
his black face showing a greenish tint, and revealing puzzled
amazement, with wide-opened eyes staring blankly at Haines, who stood
motionless before the fire.

"Whut wus dat yer sed, Mister Haines?" he asked thickly. "You say as
how Missus Rene Beaucaire is a slave, sah? Pears like I don't just
rightfully understan'."

"Still that is true, Pete," and the lawyer lifted his head and surveyed
us both. "She is the illegitimate daughter of Delia, Judge Beaucaire's
housekeeper; her father was Adelbert Beaucaire, the Judge's only son.
No one knows where he is, dead or alive."

"De good Lord! An' de ol' Jedge never set her free?"

The lawyer shook his head, words evidently failing him.

"But are you absolutely certain of this?" I broke in impatiently.
"Have you searched the records?"

"Not only searched them, Knox, but, before he left for the north on
this last trip, Beaucaire was in my office, and I practically forced
him to acknowledge the negligence. He even authorized me to draw up
the necessary papers for him to sign on his return--for both Delia and
the girl. They are in my desk now, unexecuted. There is no
mistake--Rene is legally a slave, together with her mother."

"My God!" I exclaimed. "What an indictment of slavery. Could anyone
conceive a more horrible position! Here is a young girl, educated,
refined, of more than ordinary attractiveness Thockmorton tells me,
brought up amid every comfort, and led to believe herself the honored
daughter of the house, awakening in an instant to the fact that she is
a slave, with negro blood in her veins--a mere chattel, owned body and
soul by a gambler, won in a card game, and to be sold to the highest
bidder. Haines, I tell you Kirby knew all this."

"Kirby knew? Why do you say that?"

"He boasted of it. I thought little about what he said at the time,
but I believe now one of his main objects was to gain possession of
this girl. That would account for h