trembling of his
voice struck her attention and caused her to remain.

"I intended to buy you and make you free and happy, but I was too
late," continued he.

"Why do you wish to make me free?" inquired the girl.

"Because I once had an only and lovely sister, who died three years ago
in France, and you are so much like her that had I not known of her
death I should certainly have taken you for her."

"However much I may resemble your sister, you are aware that I am not
she; why, then, take so much interest in one whom you have never seen
before and may never see again?"

"The love," said he, "which I had for my sister is transferred to you."

Clotelle had all along suspected that the man was a knave, and this
profession of love at once confirmed her in that belief. She therefore
immediately turned away and left him.

Hours elapsed. Twilight was just "letting down her curtain and pinning
it with a star," as the slave-girl seated herself on a sofa by the
window, and began meditating upon her eventful history, meanwhile
watching the white waves as they seemed to sport with each other in the
wake of the noble vessel, with the rising moon reflecting its silver
rays upon the splendid scene, when the foreigner once more appeared
near the window. Although agitated for fear her mistress would see her
talking to a stranger, and be angry, Clotelle still thought she saw
something in the countenance of the young man that told her he was
sincere, and she did not wish to hurt his feelings.

"Why persist in your wish to talk with me?" she said, as he again
advanced and spoke to her.

"I wish to purchase you and make you happy," returned he.

"But I am not for sale now," she replied. "My present mistress will not
sell me, and if you wished to do so ever so much you could not."

"Then," said he, "if I cannot buy you, when the steamer reaches Mobile,
fly with me, and you shall be free."

"I cannot do it," said Clotelle; and she was just leaving the stranger
when he took from his pocket a piece of paper and thrust it into her
hand.

After returning to her room, she unfolded the paper, and found, to her
utter astonishment that it contained a one hundred dollar note on the
Bank of the United States. The first impulse of the girl was to return
the paper and its contents immediately to the giver, but examining the
paper more closely, she saw in faint pencil-marks, "Remember this is
from one who loves you." Another thought was