be a
granddaughter." He paused reminiscently, his eyes on the river. "To
all appearances they are about of the same age, but differing rather
widely in looks and character. Both are attractive girls I judge,
although I only had a glimpse of them, and at the time knew nothing of
the difference in relationship. I naturally supposed them to be
sisters, until Haines and I got to talking about the matter on the way
back. Pshaw, Knox, you've got me gossiping like an old woman."

I glanced aside at his face.

"This, then, is not common river talk? the truth is not generally
known?"

"No; I have never heard it mentioned elsewhere, nor have I previously
repeated the story. However, now that the suggestion has slipped out,
perhaps I had better go ahead and explain." He puffed at his pipe, and
I waited, seemingly intent on the scene without. The captain was a
minute or two in deciding how far he would venture. "Haines told me a
number of strange things about that family I had never heard before,"
he admitted at last. "You see he has known them for years, and
attended to most of Beaucaire's legal business. I don't know why he
chanced to take me into his confidence, only he had been drinking some,
and, I reckon, was a bit lonely for companionship; then those two girls
interested me, and I asked quite a few questions about them. At first
Haines was close as a clam, but finally loosened up, and this is about
how the story runs, as he told it. It wasn't generally known, but it
seems that Lucius Beaucaire has been married twice--the first time to a
Creole girl in New Orleans when he was scarcely more than a boy.
Nobody now living probably knows what ever became of her, but likely
she died early; anyway she never came north, or has since been heard
from. The important part is that she gave birth to a son, who remained
in New Orleans, probably in her care, until he was fourteen or fifteen
years old. Then some occurrence, possibly his mother's death, caused
the Judge to send for the lad, whose name was Adelbert, and had him
brought to Missouri. All this happened before Haines settled at the
Landing, and previous to Beaucaire's second marriage to Mademoiselle
Menard. Bert, as the boy was called, grew up wild, and father and son
quarreled so continuously that finally, and before he was twenty, the
latter ran away, and has never been heard of since. All they ever
learned was that he drifted down the river on a flatboat."