I asked her to sing. In subdued tones, but with an exquisite accuracy, she sang some of the favorite airs by Mozart, Bellini, and Donizetti, using the Italian as if it were her native tongue. And there, in that atmosphere of death, while the surrounding population were being decimated by the terrible pestilence, I drank in my first draughts of an imperishable love. I looked at my watch. It was half an hour after midnight. How had the hours slipped by! We must part. “Estelle!” I exclaimed with emotion; but I could not put into words what I had intended to say. Then, taking her hand, I added, “You have given me the most delightful evening of my life.” No light was burning in the room, but by the moonbeams I could see her face all luminous with joy and triumph. My second kiss was bestowed; but this time it was on her lips,—brief, but impassioned. “Good night, Estelle!” I whispered; and, forcing myself instantly away, I closed the door. I entered my apartment, and went to bed, but not to sleep. Tears that I could not repress gushed forth. A strange rapture possessed me. Nature had proved itself stronger than convention. The impulsive heart was more than a match for the calculating head. For the first time in my life I saw the new heavens and the new earth which love brings in. Estelle now seemed all the dearer to me for her very helplessness,—for the degradation and isolation in which slavery had placed her. Were she a princess, could I love her half as well? But she shall be treated with all the consideration due to a princess! Passion shall take no advantage of her friendlessness and self-abandonment. Then came thoughts of the danger she was in,—of what I should do for her rescue; and it was not till light dawned in the east that I fell into a slumber. We gave up nearly the whole of the next day to the discussion of plans. In pursuance of that on which we finally fixed, Estelle wrote a letter to Mr. Ratcliff in these words:— “TO CARBERRY RATCLIFF, Esq.:—Sir: By the time this letter reaches you I shall be out of your power, and with my freedom assured. Still I desire to be at liberty to return to New Orleans, if I should so elect, and therefore I request you to name the sum in consideration of which you will give me free papers. A friend will negotiate with you. Let that friend have your answer, if you please, in the form of an advertisement in the Picayune, addressed to ESTELLE.” Two days afterwards we found the following answer in the newspaper named:— “TO ESTELLE: For fifty dollars, I will give you the papers you desire. C. R.” Long and anxiously we meditated on this reply. I dreaded a trap. Was it not most likely that Ratcliff, in naming so low a figure, hoped to secure some clew to the whereabouts of Estelle?