"My brother and sister--" He paused abruptly, and then said: "You are sure to hear it from others, so I will tell you myself. The La Grange family skeleton shall be shown to you by no less a hand than my own! My brother has made a very--I hardly know what to call it. It is an unfortunate marriage, since no one knows who the girl is. When you saw me in New York, I was hoping to prevent their marriage, but it was too late. They had eloped and had been married immediately on arriving in New York. As soon as her aunt, with whom she lived, learned that Flower had eloped with my brother, she sent for me. She had been a great invalid, and the excitement had upset her so that when I arrived she looked as if she had not an hour to live. She caught me by the arm and said: ’Flower must not marry a La Grange. She is not my niece nor any relative of mine. Her mother was--’ and with that her speech failed. She struggled as I never saw a being struggle to speak the one word more,--the one word needful,--and, failing, she fell back against her pillow--dead!" Carolina’s face showed her horror. He felt soothed by her understanding and went on, in a low, pained voice. "It ruined my life. And it has ruined Winfield’s." "And the girl," said Carolina, in a tense voice, "Flower!" "It has ruined hers. They are the most unhappy couple I ever saw. And more so since the baby came." "It will all come right," declared Carolina, straightening herself. "You will discover that Flower is entitled to a name, and that your worst fears are incorrect." "My worst fears--" began Moultrie. Then he stopped abruptly. "I cannot explain them to you," he said. "I know what you mean. But remember that I, too, have seen Flower. I saw her that day, and I say to you that not one drop of negro blood flows in that girl’s veins, and your brother’s child is safe." "You think so?" he exclaimed, moved by the earnestness of her voice and the calm conviction of her manner. Then he shook his head. "It seems too good to be true." "I can understand," she said, "the terrible strain you are all under, but, believe me, it will all come out right." "They think the baby is bewitched,--that he has been voodooed,--if you know what that means. The negroes declare that an evil spirit can be seen moving around whatever spot the child inhabits." "What utter nonsense!" cried Carolina. "I hope your brother has too much sense, too much religion, to encourage such a belief." "My poor brother believes that the devil has marked him for his own." "Does your brother believe in a devil?" asked Carolina. "Why, don’t you?" asked Moultrie, in a shocked tone. "I was not aware that any enlightened person did nowadays," answered Carolina, with a lift of her chin. The movement irritated her companion far more than her words, just as Carolina had intended it to. There are some subjects which cannot be argued. They must be obliterated by a contempt which bites into one’s self-love.