rson, "for two reasons: firstly, I have broken the
laws, and ought to stand the penalty; and secondly--you must really
excuse me, Jools, you know, but the pass has been got onfairly, I'm
afeerd. You told the judge I was innocent; and in neither case it don't
become a Christian (which I hope I can still say I am one) to 'do evil
that good may come.' I muss stay."

M. St.-Ange stood up aghast, and for a moment speechless, at this
exhibition of moral heroism; but an artifice was presently hit upon.
"_Mais_, Posson Jone'!"--in his old _falsetto_--"de order--you cannot
read it, it is in French--compel you to go hout, sir!"

"Is that so?" cried the parson, bounding up with radiant face--"is that
so, Jools?"

The young man nodded, smiling; but though he smiled, the fountain of his
tenderness was opened. He made the sign of the cross as the parson knelt
in prayer, and even whispered "Hail Mary," etc., quite through, twice
over.

Morning broke in summer glory upon a cluster of villas behind the city,
nestled under live-oaks and magnolias on the banks of a deep bayou, and
known as Suburb St. Jean.

With the first beam came the West-Floridian and the Creole out upon the
bank below the village. Upon the parson's arm hung a pair of antique
saddle-bags. Baptiste limped wearily behind; both his eyes were
encircled with broad blue rings, and one cheek-bone bore the official
impress of every knuckle of Colossus's left hand. The "beautiful to take
care of somebody" had lost his charge. At mention of the negro he became
wild, and half in English, half in the "gumbo" dialect, said murderous
things. Intimidated by Jules to calmness, he became able to speak
confidently on one point; he could, would, and did swear that Colossus
had gone home to the Florida parishes; he was almost certain; in fact,
he thought so.

There was a clicking of pulleys as the three appeared upon the bayou's
margin, and Baptiste pointed out, in the deep shadow of a great oak, the
Isabella, moored among the bulrushes, and just spreading her sails for
departure. Moving down to where she lay, the parson and his friend
paused on the bank, loath to say farewell.

"O Jools!" said the parson, "supposin' Colossus ain't gone home! O
Jools, if you'll look him out for me, I'll never forget you--I'll never
forget you, nohow, Jools. No, Jools, I never will believe he taken that
money. Yes, I know all niggahs will steal"--he set foot upon the
gang-plank--"but Colossus woul