FAREWELL TO LOUISIANA.
Gerald Leslie, William Bowen, and Philip Treverton accompanied Silas
Craig to the attorney's office, where the wretched man refunded the
hundred thousand dollars, and wrote a long and detailed confession of
his guilt, which he signed in the presence of three witnesses.
This done, Gerald and his partner returned to the house of Augustus
Horton, where they had left Mortimer Percy.
They found Augustus, Adelaide, and Mrs. Montresor seated in a
brilliantly lighted apartment, communicating with the morning room that
opened upon the garden.
Mortimer Percy was seated a little distance from his cousin, and it was
evident that no reconciliation had taken place between them.
Adelaide and Mrs. Montresor were both engaged in some elegant
needle-work, which afforded them an excellent excuse for silence.
Augustus stood near the open window smoking his cigar in moody
stillness.
It was thus the group was occupied when Gerald Leslie and Philip
Treverton returned from the lawyer's house.
Gerald was the first to speak:
"You will be surprised, perhaps, to see me again, Mr. Horton?" he said
to Augustus.
"I will freely own that I am so," answered the planter; "though the
conduct of my cousin, Mr. Percy, has made me accustomed to surprises.
The revelations of this morning have nothing to do with me, and I
cannot imagine what can have brought Mr. Leslie and Mr. Treverton to
this house."
Gerald Leslie smiled.
"Indeed, Mr. Horton! You forget, then, that I have a daughter?"
"I do not," answered Augustus. "I have very good reason to remember
that fact, Mr. Leslie. The purchase of the Octoroon slave, Cora, cost
me fifty thousand dollars, and there appears considerable chance of my
losing every cent."
"Not if you can capture your runaway slave," said Gerald Leslie.
"Not if I can recapture her. No, let her once fall into my hands, and
it shall be my fault if she escapes again. As for the Englishman,
Gilbert Margrave--"
"You will have no mercy upon him?" asked Gerald.
"By Heaven I will not. We Southerners are in no humor just now to put
up with any of your abolitionist tricks, and Mr. Margrave shall pay
dearly for breaking the laws of Louisiana."
Augustus walked up and down the room as he spoke, and every accent
revealed his rage, at the defeat and humiliation he had sustained since
the preceding night.
"Mr. Horton," said Gerald Leslie gravely, "Philip Treverton and I had
a very serious purpose in coming to you here this evening. We come to
make an appeal to your generosity, and your sense of manly honor. Will
you listen patiently to that appeal?"
"You are free to speak," replied Augustus, haughtily, and throwing away
his cigar, he folded his arms, and placed himself against a pillar that
bordered the window, as if prepared to listen, but as if determined not
to be convinced.
"I appeal to you, then, in the presence of your sister and your cousin,
and in that of Mrs. Montresor, whose sentiments, I know, are opposed
to the cruel system of barter, which has in my case deprived a father
of his beloved and only daughter--I appeal to every better feeling of
your nature, and I ask if my child Cora is to suffer for one hour for
the infamy of that man, Silas Craig? Restore her to freedom, before I
institute proceedings to invalidate the illegal sale of my property,
which was seized upon for a debt I never owed."
Augustus Horton laughed bitterly.
"All this is very fine," he said; "but as Miss Cora Leslie has chosen
to run away from her rightful owner, it is not in my power to give her
up--even if I wished it!"
"Would you restore her to me if she were found?" asked Gerald Leslie.
"No."
"You would not? Remember, we are rich, and I would give back your fifty
thousand dollars, or double that sum if you pleased."
"Curse your paltry dollars!" cried Augustus. "It was revenge I wanted
to buy with my money; revenge for the insult your slave-daughter dared
to inflict upon me. And am I to be balked of that revenge to the very
last? No, I repeat, that were Cora recaptured to-night, I would not
give her up."
"You would not?"
"I would not; and what is more I could not, for she is no longer mine."
"No longer yours!"
"No; I have given her away!"
"Given her away!"
"Yes, to my sister Adelaide, yonder, who has good reason to hate her,
and who will make her feel what it is to be a slave. Trust a woman
for that! With me she would have lived the life of a duchess; as my
sister's property she will be a lady's-maid--a drudge. Heaven knows how
low she may sink. It may please her mistress to send your brilliant and
accomplished daughter to the kitchen to wait upon the cook."
Gerald Leslie writhed at this insulting speech.
"Miss Horton," he exclaimed, "surely, surely your woman's nature
revolts at such words as these. Why do you not speak? You were once my
daughter's friend; for pity's sake remember that!"
During the whole of this dialogue, Adelaide Horton had sat perfectly
still, her head bent over her work, as if she heard nothing of what was
going forward; but a close observer might have perceived that her bosom
heaved with suppressed emotion, and that her small hand trembled as she
endeavored to continue her work.
This had not been lost on Mortimer Percy, who had been for some time
intently watching his cousin.
Suddenly she raised her head, in order to reply to Gerald Leslie.
"I can only answer you in the words of my brother, Mr. Leslie," she
said; "I cannot restore Cora Leslie to you even if I would, for she is
no longer mine. I, too, have given her away."
Augustus started at these words.
"You, Adelaide!" he exclaimed.
"Yes! You gave her to me for a lady's-maid. I had been long seeking
for an opportunity of repairing the injury which I did her upon that
fatal day when I allowed a school-girl's folly to get the better of my
reason. I have given her to her husband, Gilbert Margrave!"
She rose as she said this and opened the door of an adjoining
apartment, and beckoned to some one within.
Gilbert Margrave and Cora Leslie entered the room.
"My brother did not think of searching his own house for the runaway
slave," said Adelaide, smiling. "The abduction of last night was
planned by Mr. Margrave and myself, and it was agreed that he should
bring her here as the last place in which her pursuers would be likely
to seek her."
Mortimer Percy started from his chair, and, crossing the room, clasped
his cousin in his arms.
"Did you indeed do this, Adelaide?" he exclaimed; "did you indeed? And
will you forgive me for my conduct? Heaven knows what pain it has given
me, for I have always loved you dearly."
"I deserved all I have suffered, Mortimer," replied Adelaide,
disengaging herself gently from her cousin's enthusiastic embrace; "but
I have done all in my power to repair the error of a moment. Cora is
free; free to sail for England with her betrothed husband."
"Dear, generous girl," murmured the Octoroon, taking Adelaide's hand in
hers; "far away, in that free and happy country, I shall remember your
noble conduct."
"And you shall see us in England before long, my dear Miss Leslie,"
said Mortimer, "if my cousin will allow her most penitent swain to
conduct her on a bridal tour through Europe. Mr. Leslie, you, I
suppose, will accompany your daughter to England."
"I shall," replied Gerald; "thanks to the providential return of my
dear friend and partner here, I shall be rich enough to establish
myself on British ground, leaving to him the cares of the plantation."
"Which will be heavy enough to keep him out of gambling-houses," said
Philip Treverton, with a smile.
Augustus Horton felt that his defeat and humiliation were complete.
He had no alternative but to put the best possible face upon the
matter, and he was wise enough to accept this alternative with a
tolerable grace.
"Mr. Margrave," he said, "let all ill will be forgotten between us.
Miss Leslie will tell you that all is fair in love as in war. We have
played a desperate game for the sake of yonder lady's smiles, and I
have lost. So be it. I can but submit to my defeat, and congratulate
you on your superior fortune. There is my hand."
Gilbert and Augustus shook hands. Both men felt the hollowness of the
ceremonial.
Gerald Leslie's carriage, with Toby as the driver, was in waiting to
convey the happy trio to Lake Pontchartrain; and in three days they
were to leave Louisiana in an English steamer.
Philip Treverton asked permission to accompany his old partner to the
pavilion. Mortimer Percy remained with his cousin Adelaide.
Two days after this happy evening, Mortimer led his fair bride to the
altar.
The ceremonial took place thus hurriedly in order that Cora--the
Octoroon, the once despised slave--might officiate as bridesmaid at her
old schoolfellow's wedding.
The bride was given away by her brother Augustus, and Gilbert Margrave
acted as "best man" to the bridegroom.
On the day following, Gilbert, Cora, and Leslie were to bid adieu to
New Orleans.
The marriage ceremony was performed with great splendor, and
a sumptuous banquet was given by Augustus Horton to the most
distinguished inhabitants of New Orleans.
It had been intended that Cora Leslie should appear at this banquet;
and there was considerable curiosity felt upon the subject by the
guests who knew the leading particulars of her story, and who were
anxious to see the heroine of such romantic adventures.
They were disappointed, however, for, just as the bride was taking her
place at the table, the Quadroon slave, Myra, slipped a note into her
hand.
It was from Cora, and ran thus:
"Dearest Adelaide,--Forgive me if I have disobeyed you in
withdrawing from your brilliant assembly. All your visitors are not
as generous as yourself; and there may be many amongst your guests
whose prejudices would be outraged by the presence of a daughter of
the despised race. I have a sacred duty to perform before leaving
Louisiana; and I go with Gilbert to fulfill it during the hours of
your festivity.
"Ever and ever your affectionate
"CORA."
The reader may, perhaps, guess the duty which called Cora Leslie from
that festive party.
Deep in the bosom of that wood at Iberville, in which Gilbert Margrave
and Augustus Horton had met some months before, Cora knelt with her
lover beside the wooden cross, which alone marked the spot where the
martyred Francilia lay.
Mournful were the tears which the freeborn Englishman and his betrothed
bride wept upon the grave of the victim of slavery.
But the star of hope shone above the tomb and a prophetic whisper in
the hearts of both, told of a day when the terrible institution which
enables man to traffic in the body and soul of his fellow men, should
be only a dark memory of the past.
* * * * *
Early next day a happy group stood upon the deck of a large steamer,
which was speeding away from New Orleans.
Already the Queen City of the Mississippi was fading in the horizon,
the white walls of villas, and the steeples of churches melting in the
distance.
Cora Leslie stood with her arm linked in that of her father, and with
her betrothed husband by her side.
A little way behind them, laden with shawls, parasols, and books, and
proud to be of service to his young mistress, stood Toby, the mulatto;
no longer a slave, but a happy attendant on those he loved.
A few weeks after this another vessel steamed out of the New Orleans
harbor, bearing some who have been familiar to us; but this steamer was
bound for the sunny shores of France.
Paul Crivelli and his cousin Camillia decided on leaving New Orleans
until the Spanish girl had recovered from the shock of her father's
death. They had consented therefore to accompany Armand Tremlay and
Pauline, who, after considerable persuasion, had been induced to become
the wife of her old lover without further delay.
Silas Craig left New Orleans in the dead of the night. None knew
whither he went, and few cared to discover. He had so contrived as to
convey away the whole of his wealth, and if the possession of gold,
each coin of which is branded with meanness and dishonor, can bring
happiness, the usurer may be a happy man. But let him not hug himself
in the security of his hiding place, the bloodhounds of the law are on
his track. His departure revealed the secrets of his past life. The
gambling-house in Columbia Street, and all the nefarious practices
which had been permitted in that haunt of vice, were brought to the
light of day. A warrant was issued for the lawyer's apprehension, and
his pursuers do not yet despair of dragging him to justice.
Heaven help him, should he ever be so rash as to return to New Orleans!
Once in the hands of his infuriated fellow citizens, Silas Craig would
have to endure the horrors of Lynch law.
We have little more to say. Those of whom we have written, live to
receive the reward of their own actions.
Cora is a happy wife in our own dear native land--happy in the society
of the father she loves, secure in the devotion of her proud English
husband.
Camillia and Paul are the stars of a Parisian circle. Rich,
accomplished, and handsome, the young Spaniard and his wife are admired
and caressed by all who know them, but they have no friends whom they
regard with the same affection as Armand and Pauline Tremlay.
Our story is finished.
We have not been dealing with the shadowy woes of fiction, but with the
real sorrows that have wrung and tortured human hearts, the hearts of
our oppressed brothers and sisters.
If any line which we have written has gained one convert to the cause
of freedom, we have not written in vain, and the feeling of regret
with which we bid adieu to the kind and indulgent readers who have
sympathized with the sufferings, of which we have told, will be mingled
with the happy consciousness that our labor has not been wasted,
and that we have made friends for the great cause of Liberty versus
Slavery, as well as for CORA, the OCTOROON.
THE END.