admitted as can claim relationship, or liens of a like intimate order.

On this evening--the first after leaving port--the poop deck of the
little steamer is so occupied by several individuals; who stand gazing
at the scene that passes like a panorama before their eyes. The hot
southern sun has disappeared behind the dark belt of cypress forest,
which forms, far and near, the horizon line of Louisiana; while the soft
evening breeze, laden with the mixed perfumes of the _liquid ambar_, and
_magnolia grandiflora_, is wafted around them, like incense scattered
from a censer.

Notwithstanding its delights, and loveliness, Nature does not long
detain the saunterers outside. Within is a spell more powerful, and to
many of them more attractive. It is after dinner hour; the cabin tables
have been cleared, and its lamps lit. Under the sheen of brilliant
chandeliers the passengers are drawing together in groups, and coteries;
some to converse, others to play _ecarte_ or _vingt-un_; here and there
a solitary individual burying himself in a book; or a pair, almost as
unsocial, engaging in the selfish duality of chess.

Three alone linger outside; and of these only two appear to do so with
enjoyment. They are some paces apart from the third, who is now left to
herself: for it is a woman. Not that they are unacquainted with her, or
in any way wishing to be churlish. But, simply, because neither can
spare word or thought for any one, save their two sweet selves.

It scarce needs telling who is the couple thus mutually engrossed. An
easy guess gives Jessie Armstrong and Luis Dupre. The young Creole's
handsome features, black eyes, brunette complexion, and dark curly hair
have made havoc with the heart of Armstrong's youngest daughter; while,
_en revanche_, her contrasting colours of red, blue, and gold have held
their own in the amorous encounter. They are in love with one another
to their finger tips.

As they stand conversing in soft whispers, the eyes of the third
individual are turned towards them. This only at intervals, and with
nought of jealousy in the glance. For it is Jessie's own sister who
gives it. Whatever of that burn in Helen's breast, not these, nor by
them, has its torch been kindled. The love that late occupied her heart
has been plucked therefrom, leaving it lacerated, and lorn. It was the
one love of her life, and now crushed out, can never be rekindled. If
she have a thought about her sister's