Clotelle; Or, The Colored Heroine, a tale of the Southern States; Or, The President's Daughter

l that agony, far deeper than her speech portrayed, filled her heart. A dull and death-like silence prevailed on his entrance. His pale face and brow, dishevelled hair, and the fee

lustre which sweetly harmonized with the silence of the night. The clock's iron tongue, in a neighboring belfry, proclaimed the hour of

but I feat you are not. If well in body

inqui

u are so pale and have such

laim upon his heart. To behold one thus playing upon the feelings of two lovely

previous night's experience, telling her how she had followed Henry to Isabella's cottage, detailing the interview with the quadroon, and her late return home alone. The old woman

r, with her eyes flashing fire. "Don't sleep this night, my child, until that wench has been remove

s the father of her child. Few women could have taken such a matter in hand and carried it through with more determination and success than old Mrs. Miller. Completely inured in all the crimes and atrocities connected with the instituti

ties, Henry, unaware of what was transpiring, had left the house and gone

is on his way to see that wench

in-law was at his office. Before the old lady returned home, it was agreed that Gertrude should come to her mother's to tea that evening, and H

he old woman retraced her

ge poplar-trees was the old homestead in which she resided. There was a splendid orchard in the rear of the house, and the old weather-beaten sweep, with "the moss-covered bucket" at its e

s golden kisses, burnished the rich clusters of purple grapes, that Henry and Gertrude were seen approaching the house o

s that she had spent there with him rushed unbidden on her memory. It was here that, in former days, her beautiful countenance had made her appearance as fascinating and as lovely as that of Cleopatra's. Her sweet, musical voice migh

many a flogging, by interceding for them, when her mother was in one of her uncontrollable passions. Dinah, the cook, always expected Miss Gerty to visit the kitchen as soon as she came, and was not a little d

, and, no doubt, long wishing to free himself from Isabella, he at once yielded to the demands of his mother-in-law. Mr. Miller was a mere cipher about his premises. If any one came on business connected with the farm, he would invariably say, "Wait till I see my wife," and the wife's opinion was sure to be law in every case. Bankrupt in character, and debauched in body and mind, with seven mulatto children who claimed him as their father, he was badly prepared to find fault with his son-in-law. It was se