“A slave, is she? Look me in the face and tell me, if you can, you believe she has a drop of African blood in her veins. No! That child must have been kidnapped. And you have often suspected as much.” “Where the Devil—Confound the woman!” muttered Ratcliff, half frightened at what looked like clairvoyance. “Yes,” she continued, “her parents must have been of gentle blood. Look at her hands and feet. Hear her speak.” “What is there you don’t find out, Josy?” exclaimed Ratcliff. “Here you tell me things that have been working in my mind, which I was hardly aware of myself till you mentioned them!” “O, I’ve known all about your search for the girl. ’T was not till after a struggle I could reconcile it to my mind to lend you my aid. But this was what I thought: He will soon be a widower. He will desire to marry; not that he does not love his Josy—” “Yes, Josy, you’re right there; you’re a jewel of a woman. Such devilish good common sense! Go on.” “He would marry, not that he does not love his Josy, but because he wants a legitimate child of his own. That’s but natural and proper. Why should I oppose it, and thus give him cause to cast me out from his affections? Why not give him new reason for attachment, by showing him I am capable of a sacrifice for his sake? Yes, he will love me none the less for letting him see that without one jealous pang I can help him to a young and beautiful wife.” “But, Josy, would you really recommend my marrying this girl?” “Why not? Where will you find her equal?” “But just think of it,—she was sold to me at public auction as a slave.” “Yes, and the next day Mrs. Gentry wrote you that the coloring stuff had washed off from her skin, and she was whiter than any one in the school. You wrote not a word in reply. But did not the thought occur to you, the child has been kidnapped? Of course it did! In this great city of rogues and murderers, did you not consider there were plenty of men capable of such an act? Deny it if you can.” “Josy, you’re enough to unsteady a man’s nerves. How did you discover there was such a being as Miss Murray? and how did you get out of my mind what I had thought about the kidnapping? and how, what I myself had hardly dreamed of, the idea, namely, of making her my wife?” “When one loves,” replied Josephine, “one is quick to watch, and sharp to detect. At first, as I’ve told you, I was disposed to be jealous. But reflection soon convinced me ’ would be for your happiness to take this young person, now in the false position of a slave, and educate her for your wife. Even if the world should know her story, what would you care? You’re above all social criticism. Besides, would it not be comical for our swarthy Creole ladies to snuff at such a beautiful blonde, whose very presence would give the lie to all that malice could insinuate as to her birth?”