ect. His character commands it; while his name, known
throughout all the South-west, will be sure to draw around, and rally
under his standard, some of those strong stalwart men of the backwoods,
equally apt with axe and rifle, without whom no settlement on the far
frontier of Texas would stand a chance of either security, or success.

For it is to the far frontier they purpose going, where land can be got
at government prices, and where they intend to purchase it not by the
acre, but in square miles--in leagues.

Such is Dupre's design, easy of execution with the capital he can
command after disposing of his Red River plantation.

And within a week after his arrival in Natchitoches, he has disposed of
it; signed the deed of delivery, and received the money. An immense
sum, notwithstanding the sacrifice of a sale requiring quick despatch.
On the transfer being completed, the Creole holds in hand a cash capital
of $200,000; in those days sufficient not only for the purchase of a
large tract of territory, but enough to make the dream of a seignorial
estate appear a possible reality.

Not much of the future is he reflecting upon now. If, at times, he cast
a chance thought towards it, it may be to picture to himself how his
blonde beauty will look as lady _suzeraine_--_chatelaine_ of the castle
to be erected in Texas.

In his fancy, no doubt, he figures her as the handsomest creature that
ever carried keys at her belt.

If these fancies of the future are sweet, the facts of the present are
even more so. Daring their sojourn in Natchitoches the life of Louis
Dupre and Jessie Armstrong is almost a continuous chapter of amorous
converse and dalliance; left hands mutually clasped, right ones around
waists, or playing with curls and tresses; lips at intervals meeting in
a touch that intoxicates the soul--the delicious drunkenness of love,
from which no one need ever wish to get sober.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

NEWS FROM NATCHEZ.

While thus pleasantly pass the days with Colonel Armstrong's younger
daughter, to the elder they are drear and dark. No love lights up the
path of _her_ life, no sun shines upon it; nothing save shadow and
clouds.

More than a week has elapsed since their arrival in Natchitoches, and
for much of this time has she been left alone. Love, reputed a generous
passion, is of all the most selfish. Kind to its own chosen, to others
it can be cruel; often is, when the open exhibition of its fervid