ined.

"My pardon you have," said L'Ouverture. "I should rather say my
compassion; for you never deliberately designed treachery, I am
persuaded."

"I never did! I never did!"

"Neither had you any good design. You have been selfish, vain, and
presumptuous; as far from comprehending my purposes as from having
criminal ones of your own. In the new circumstances in which negroes
are placed, many must fall, however firmly some may stand. You are
among the infirm; and therefore, however I may mourn, I do not resent
what you have done."

"Thank God! You pardon me! Thank God! Henceforth, with Aimee to watch
over me--with you to guide me--"

"No, Vincent! You cannot be with me. Aimee is free as she has ever
been; but you cannot be with me. I go to martyrdom: to fulfil what
appears to be the solemn vocation of the Ouvertures. I go to martyrdom;
and none but steady souls must travel that way with me."

"You scorn me," said Vincent, springing from his knees. "Your acts show
that you scorn me. You take that poor fellow," pointing to Mars
Plaisir, "and you reject me."

"My son's servant," said Toussaint, smiling. "He goes to his beloved
France, free to quit us for any other service, when ours becomes too
grave for his light spirit. I would not insult you by taking you on a
like condition. You must leave us, Vincent," pointing to the _Creole's_
boat, now about to put off from the _Heros_. "We will pray for you.
Farewell!"

"Aimee!" said her lover, scarcely daring to raise his eyes to her face.

"Farewell, Vincent!" Aimee strove to say.

In vain Vincent endeavoured to plead. Aimee shook her head, signed to
him to go, and hid her face on her father's shoulder. It was too much.
Humbled to the point of exasperation, Vincent throw himself over the
ship's side into the boat, and never more saw the face of an Ouverture.

"I have nothing left but you," sobbed Aimee--"but you and my mother. If
they kill you my mother will die, and I shall be desolate."

"Your brothers, my child."

"No, no. I have tried all. I left you to try. I loved you always; but
I thought I loved others more. But--"

"But," said her father, when she could not proceed, "you found the lot
of woman. To woman the affections are all: to men, even to brothers,
they are not. Courage, Aimee! Courage! for you are an Ouverture.
Courage to meet your woman's martyrdom!"

"Let me rest upon your heart, father; and I can bear anything."