not my nature until it was burned into my very soul. I
am very young, but the bitterness of my experiences makes me old, at
least in feeling. But you are not my father confessor--then why do I
talk to you as to one long known? Because--perhaps--but never mind the
reason. I know my cousin has whispered something to you of me; my
situation, my nature--is it not so?"

"Ah! you would be _my_ father confessor. You must not interrogate, but
if you would know, ask your cousin."

"O! no, I could not. Is it not strange that woman will confide to the
strange man, what she will not to the kindred woman? Woman will not
sympathize with woman; she goes not to her for comfort, for sympathy,
for relief. Is this natural? Men lean on one another, women only on
man. Is this natural? Is it instinctive? or an acquired faculty? Do not
laugh at me, I am very foolish and very sad; such a day should sadden
every one. But my cousin is very cheerful, twitters and flits about
like an uncaged canary, and is as cheerful when it rains all day, as
when the sun in her glory gladdens all the earth and everything
thereon. I am almost a Natchez, for I worship the sun. How I am running
on! You are gentle and kind, are you not? You are quick,
perceptive--you have seen that I am not happy--sympathize, but do not
pity me. That is a terrible struggle between prudence and inclination.
There, now I am done--don't you think me very foolish?"

"Miss Alice--(will you allow me this familiarity?)"

"Yes, when we are alone; not before cousin or my _man_ brother." (She
almost choked with the word.) "Not before strangers--we are not
strangers when alone. You read my nature, as I do yours, and we are
not strangers when alone. It is not long acquaintance which makes
familiar friends. The mesmeric spark will do more than years of
intercommunication, where there is no congeniality--and do it in a
little precious moment. The bloody arrow we held in common was an
electric chain. I learned you at the plucking of that arrow from the
cotton bale--in your strange, wild garb; but never mind--what were you
going to say?"

"I was going to say that our acquaintance was very brief, but what I
have seen or heard, I will not tell to you or to any one. Your
imagination is magnifying your sufferings. You want a heart to confide
in. You have brothers-in-law, wise and strong men.

"That, for the whole of them," she said, as she snapped her fingers.
"Their wives are my sisters, some