property--slaves
and plantation lands; and, being thoroughly in his father's confidence,
he is aware of the probability of a proximate reversion to the slaves
and plantation lands belonging to Colonel Armstrong.

But much as Dick Darke may like money, there is that he likes more, even
to covetousness--Colonel Armstrong's daughter. There are two of them--
Helen and Jessie--both grown girls,--motherless too--for the colonel is
himself a widower.

Jessie, the younger, is bright-haired, of blooming complexion, merry to
madness; in spirit, the personification of a romping elf; in physique, a
sort of Hebe. Helen, on the other hand, is dark as gipsy, or Jewess;
stately as a queen, with the proud grandeur of Juno. Her features of
regular classic type, form tall and magnificently moulded, amidst others
she appears as a palm rising above the commoner trees of the forest.
Ever since her coming out in society, she has been universally esteemed
the beauty of the neighbourhood--as belle in the balls of Natchez. It
is to her Richard Darke has extended his homage, and surrendered his
heart.

He is in love with her, as much as his selfish nature will allow--
perhaps the only unselfish passion ever felt by him.

His father sanctions, or at all events does not oppose it. For the
wicked son holds a wonderful ascendancy over a parent, who has trained
him to wickedness equalling his own.

With the power of creditor over debtor--a debt of which payment can be
demanded at any moment, and not the slightest hope of the latter being
able to pay it--the Darkes seem to have the vantage ground, and may
dictate their own terms.

Helen Armstrong knows nought of the mortgage; no more, of herself being
the cause which keeps it from foreclosure. Little does she dream, that
her beauty is the sole shield imposed between her father and impending
ruin. Possibly if she did, Richard Darke's attentions to her would be
received with less slighting indifference. For months he has been
paying them, whenever, and wherever, an opportunity has offered--at
balls, _barbecues_, and the like. Of late also at her father's house;
where the power spoken of gives him not only admission, but polite
reception, and hospitable entertainment, at the hands of its owner;
while the consciousness of possessing it hinders him from observing, how
coldly his assiduities are met by her to whom they are so warmly
addressed.

He wonders why, too. He knows that Helen Arms