amily, with the exception of its head, were
in favour of peace, admirers of Bonaparte, and aware that they were
likely to be victims to the ambition of their father. Her reply, in
which she declared that she gloried, was that the deepest passion of her
soul was hatred of the whites; and that she prayed for their
annihilation.

"And did you also declare, my daughter," said Toussaint, "that in this
you differ from us all? Did you avow that your parents look upon this
passion in you as a disease, for which you have their daily and nightly
prayers?"

"I did declare, my father, that I alone of the Ouvertures know how to
feel for the wrongs of my race. But Monsieur Coasson did not believe
me, and vowed that we should all suffer for the opinions held by me
alone."

"It is true, I did not believe, nor do I now believe," said Coasson,
"that the devil would single out one of a family, to corrupt her heart
with such atrocious hatred as that whose avowal chilled the marrow of my
bones. It was her countenance of wretchedness that attracted me. I saw
that she was less capable of dissimulation than the rest of you; and so
I have found."

"A wise man truly has the Captain-General chosen for an envoy!" observed
Toussaint: "a wise and an honourable man! He sees woe in the face of a
woman, and makes it his instrument for discovering the secret souls of
her family. Blindly bent upon this object, and having laid open, as he
thinks, one heart, he reads the rest by it. But he may, with all his
wisdom, and all this honour, be no less ignorant than before he saw us.
So far from reading all our souls, he has not even read the suffering
one that he has tempted. You have opened the sluices of the waters of
bitterness in my child's soul, Monsieur Coasson, but you have not found
the source."

"Time will show that," observed the envoy.

"It will," replied Toussaint; "and also the worth of your threat of
revenge for the words of my suffering child. I have no more to say to
you.--My sons!"

Placide sprang to his side, and Isaac followed.

"I no longer call you boys; for the choice of this hour makes you men.
The Captain-General insists that you go from me. He has no right to do
so. Neither have I a right to bid you stay. Hear, and decide for
yourselves.--The cause of the blacks is not so promising as it appeared
last night. News has arrived, from various quarters, of defeat and
defection. Our struggle for our liberties will be