I
fear--_a mulatto_!

"Whatever effect my manner had on him was not perceptible. He had not
seated himself, and, with a smile that was actually satirical, he bowed,
uttered a few words of greeting, and went out of the room.

"'How dared you?' I then cried, for astonishment had given place to
rage, 'how dared you deceive me--deceive us all--so? how dared you palm
yourself off as white and respectable, and thus be admitted to Mr.
Hale's school and to the society and companionship of his pupils?' I
could scarcely control myself when I thought of how shamefully we had
all been cozened.

"'Pardon me, madam,' she answered with effrontery,--effrontery under the
circumstances,--'you forget yourself, and what is due from one lady to
another.' (Did you ever hear of such presumption!) 'I practised no
deceit upon Professor Hale. He knew papa well,--was his intimate friend
at college, in England,--and was perfectly aware who was Mr.
Ercildoune's daughter when she was admitted to his school. For myself, I
had no confessions to make, and made none. I was your daughter's friend;
as such, went to her house, and invited her here. I trust you have seen
in me nothing unbecoming a gentlewoman, as, _up to this time_, I have
beheld in you naught save the attributes of a lady. If we are to have
any farther conversation, it must be conducted on the old plan, and not
the extraordinary one you have just adopted; else I shall be compelled,
in self-respect, to leave you alone in my own parlor.'

"Imagine if you can the effect of this speech upon me. I assure you I
was composed enough outwardly, if not inwardly, ere she ended her
sentence. Having finished, I said, 'Pardon me, Miss Ercildoune, for any
words which may have offended your dignity. I will confine myself for
the rest of our interview to your own rules!'

"'It is well,' she responded. I had spoken satirically, and expected to
see her shrink under it, but she answered with perfect coolness and
_sang froid_. I continued, 'You will not deny that you are a negro, at
least a mulatto.'

"'Pardon me, madam,' she replied; 'my father is a mulatto, my mother was
an Englishwoman. Thus, to give you accurate information upon the
subject, I am a quadroon.'

"'Quadroon be it!' I answered, angrily again, I fear. 'Quadroon,
mulatto, or negro, it is all one. I have no desire to split hairs of
definition. You could not be more obnoxious were you black as Erebus. I
have no farther words to pass upon