e social entanglement of boys within our
own knowledge, who have rushed into unequal marriages, or--or
associations equally deplorable with scheming women who are alert
where moneyed youth is concerned. Mr. Loring, as your guardian,
determined to forestall such complications in your case. From a
business point of view he did not think it a bad investment, since, if
you for any reason, objected to this arrangement, a girl so well
educated, even accomplished, could be disposed of at a profit."

McVeigh was walking up and down the room.

"So!" he said, bitterly, "that was Matthew Loring's amiable little
arrangement. That girl, then, belonged not to his estate, but to
Gertrude's. He was her guardian as well as mine; he would have given
me the elder sister as a wife, and the younger one as a slave. What a
curse the man is! It is for such hellish deeds that every Southerner
outside of his own lands is forced to defend slavery against heavy
odds. The outsiders never stop to consider that there is not one man
out of a thousand among us who would use his power as this man has
used it in this case; the many are condemned for the sins of the few!
Go on; what became of the girl?"

"She was, in accordance with this agreement, sent to a first-class
school, from which she disappeared--escaped, and never was found
again. The money advanced from your estate for her education is,
therefore, to be repaid you, with the interest to date; you, of
course, must not lose the money, since Loring has failed to keep his
part of the contract."

"Good God!" muttered McVeigh, continuing his restless walk; "it seems
incredible, damnable! Think of it!--a girl with the blood, the brain,
the education of a white woman, and bought in my name! I will have
nothing--nothing to do with such cursed traffic!"

Neither of them heard the smothered sobs of the woman kneeling there
back of that curtain; all the world had been changed for her by his
words.

She did not hear the finale of their conversation, only the confused
murmur of their voices came to her; then, after a little, there was
the closing of a door, and Colonel McVeigh was alone.

He was seated in the big chair where Matthew Loring had received the
stroke which meant death. The hammock was still beside it, and she
knelt there, touching his arm, timidly.

He had not heard her approach, but at her touch he turned from the
papers.

"Well, my sweetheart, what is it?" he said, and with averted