intimate terms,
and visited each other frequently. Every one spoke of Clotelle's close
resemblance to the Mortons, and especially to the eldest daughter.
Indeed, two sisters could hardly have been more alike. The large, dark
eyes, black, silk-like hair, tall, graceful figure, and mould of the
face, were the same.

The morning following Clotelle's arrival in her new home, Mrs. Taylor
was conversing in a low tone with her husband, and both with their eyes
following Clotelle as she passed through the room.

"She is far above the station of a slave," remarked the lady. "I saw
her, last night, when removing some books, open on and stand over it a
moment as if she was reading; and she is as white as I am. I am almost
sorry you bought her."

At this juncture the front door-bell rang, and Clotelle hurried through
the room to answer it.

"Miss Morton," said the servant as she returned to the mistress' room.

"Ask her to walk in," responded the mistress.

"Now, my dear," said Mrs. Taylor to her husband, "just look and see if
you do not notice a marked resemblance between the countenances of Jane
and Clotelle."

Miss Morton entered the room just as Mrs. Taylor ceased speaking.

"Have you heard that the Jamisons are down with the fever?" inquired the
young lady, after asking about the health of the Taylors.

"No, I had not; I was in hopes it would not get into our street,"
replied Mrs. Taylor.

All this while Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were keenly scrutinizing
their visitor and Clotelle and even the two young women seemed to be
conscious that they were in some way the objects of more than usual
attention.

Miss Morton had scarcely departed before Mrs. Taylor began questioning
Clotelle concerning her early childhood, and became more than ever
satisfied that the slave-girl was in some way connected with the
Mortons.

Every hour brought fresh news of the ravages of the fever, and the
Taylors commenced preparing to leave town. As Mr. Taylor could not go
at once, it was determined that his wife should leave without him,
accompanied by her new maid-servant. Just as Mrs. Taylor and Clotelle
were stepping into the carriage, they were informed that Dr. Morton was
down with the epidemic.

It was a beautiful day, with a fine breeze for the time of year,
that Mrs. Taylor and her servant found themselves in the cabin of the
splendid new steamer "Walk-in-the-Water," bound from New Orleans to
Mobile. Every berth in the boat was oc