er, and immediately determined to find out who the woman and
child were that Gertrude had met on the day of her ride. Three days were
spent by Mrs. Miller in this endeavor, but without success.

Four weeks had elapsed, and the storm of the old lady's temper had
somewhat subsided, when, one evening, as she was approaching her
daughter's residence, she saw Henry walking in the direction of where
the quadroon was supposed to reside. Being satisfied that the young
man had not seen her, the old woman at once resolved to follow him.
Linwood's boots squeaked so loudly that Mrs. Miller had no difficulty in
following him without being herself observed.

After a walk of about two miles, the young man turned into a narrow and
unfrequented road, and soon entered the cottage occupied by Isabella. It
was a fine starlight night, and the moon was just rising when they got
to their journey's end. As usual, Isabella met Henry with a smile, and
expressed her fears regarding his health.

Hours passed, and still old Mrs. Miller remained near the house,
determined to know who lived there. When she undertook to ferret out
anything, she bent her whole energies to it. As Michael Angelo, who
subjected all things to his pursuit and the idea he had formed of it,
painted the crucifixion by the side of a writhing slave and would have
broken up the true cross for pencils, so Mrs. Miller would have entered
the sepulchre, if she could have done it, in search of an object she
wished to find.

The full moon had risen, and was pouring its beams upon surrounding
objects as Henry stepped from Isabella's door, and looking at his watch,
said,--

"I must go, dear; it is now half-past ten."

Had little Clotelle been awake, she too would have been at the door. As
Henry walked to the gate, Isabella followed with her left hand locked in
his. Again he looked at his watch, and said,--

"I must go."

"It is more than a year since you staid all night," murmured Isabella,
as he folded her convulsively in his arms, and pressed upon her
beautiful lips a parting kiss.

He was nearly out of sight when, with bitter sobs, the quadroon retraced
her steps to the door of the cottage. Clotelle had in the mean time
awoke, and now inquired of her mother how long her father had been gone.
At that instant, a knock was heard at the door, and supposing that it
was Henry returning for something he had forgotten, as he frequently
did, Isabella flew to let him in. To her amaze