"Louis," said she, her whole manner changing from deep excitement to profound grief, "Oh, Louis, it will never do for you to go! Oh, no, you must not!" "And why not?" "Because,"--and she hesitated. Just then Miriam took up the unfinished sentence,"--because to join the secesh is to raise your hands agin your own race." "My own race?" and Louis laughed scornfully. "I think you are talking more wildly than Camilla. What do you mean, Miriam?" "I mean," said she, stung by his scornful words, "I mean that you, Louis Le Croix, white as you look, are colored, and that you are my own daughter's child, and if it had not been for Miss Camilla, who's been such an angel to you, that you would have been a slave to-day, and then you wouldn't have been a Confederate." At these words a look of horror and anguish passed over the face of Le Croix, and he turned to Camilla, but she was deadly pale, and trembling like an aspen leaf; but her eyes were dry and tearless. "Camilla," said he, turning fiercely to his adopted sister, "Tell me, is there any truth in these words? You are as pale as death, and trembling like a leaf,--tell me if there is any truth in these words," turning and fixing his eyes on Miriam, who stood like some ancient prophetess, her lips pronouncing some fearful doom, while she watched in breathless anguish the effect upon the fated victim. "Yes, Louis," said Camilla, in a voice almost choked by emotion. "Yes, Louis, it is all true." "But how is this that I never heard it before? Before I believe this tale I must have some proof, clear as daylight. Bring me proofs." "Here they are," said Miriam, drawing from her pocket the free papers she had been carrying about her person for several days. Louis grasped them nervously, hastily read them, and then more slowly, like one who might read a sentence of death to see if there was one word or sentence on which he might hang a hope of reprieve. Camilla watched him anxiously, but silently, and when he had finished, he covered his bowed face with his hands as he said with a deep groan, "It is true, too true. I see it all. I can never raise my hand against my mother's race." He arose like one in a dream, walked slowly to the door and left the room. "It was a painful task," said Camilla, with a sigh of relief, as if a burden had fallen from her soul. "Yes," said Miriam, "but not so bad as to see him fighting agin his own color. I'd rather follow him to his grave than see him join that miserable secesh crew." "Yes," said Camilla, "It was better than letting him go." When Louis left the room a thousand conflicting thoughts passed through his mind. He felt as a mariner at midnight on a moonless sea, who suddenly, when the storm is brewing, finds that he has lost his compass and his chart. Chapter XIV Where was he steering; and now, the course of his life was changed, what kind of future must he make for himself?