UNEXPECTED RELATIONSHIP.

  THE instant that Toadvine disappeared, and with him the different persons who had been so recently engaged in his pursuit, General Bledsoe turned to Mildmay, and showed by his manner a desire to enter into familiar conversation. The two gentlemen consequently rode out of "the swamp," side by side, and so continued in the open fields, as their road necessarily led toward Heritage Place. Mildmay was himself highly delighted with General Bledsoe, and as he had always heard him spoken of as one of the most influential persons in the surrounding neighborhood, Graham felt more than ordinary pleasure that a mutual friendship promised to be the result of a most singular introduction.

  Long before the two had reached the Heritage, all the particulars of Toadvine's conduct had been discussed and commented upon, and had given way to more pleasing subjects, and General Bledsoe had, with exceeding frankness, accepted an invitation to make a call at the house and partake of some slight refreshment, before he pursued his way homeward.

  As the gentlemen dismounted, Wash took the horses and they proceeded on through the lawn. Annie was walking on the upper gallery, and as Mildmay looked up and greeted her with a smile, General Bledsoe instinctively turned his eye also upward, and unexpectedly seeing a lady, raised his hat and passed uncovered into the house.

  Wash soon made his appearance, and armed with water and a snowy napkin, he presented them to the general, who, quietly removing his gloves, laved his hands, while Mildmay performed the same pleasant office in his own room.

  When Graham returned to his guest, he was followed by Wash, carrying a salver, on which were two or three kinds of choice liqueurs, and a box of superior cigars. The two gentlemen simply went through the ceremony of drinking, when Gen. Bledsoe set down his glass, and taking another, and filling it with cool water, he drank it with evident satisfaction; and then throwing himself into an easy chair, with Mildmay most comfortably disposed of, directly opposite him, cigars were selected and lighted; and after a few moments' silence, the general, slowly blowing the smoke from his mouth, turned to Mildmay, and observed:

  "From your given name, Mr. Mildmay, I judge that you are from the "Old North State?"

  "Such is the fact," replied Mildmay, rousing himself into an attitude of interest.

  "Yet I think," continued the general, in a musing manner, "that Mildmay is not a North Carolina name?"

  "It is not," said Mildmay; "while my mother's family

  "Your mother then was a Graham," said the general, still deeply musing. "The Grahams and the Bledsoes are intimately connected: was your family from the neighborhood of Mecklenberg?"

  "They were from the immediate vicinity of Mecklenberg," said Mildmay.

  "Then, Mr. Mildmay," said the general, his face animated with a smile, "if we Americans paid much attention to genealogical trees, I should not be surprised if we could trace ourselves to the same stock; I know of no Mecklenberg Grahams that are not relations of mine."

  "I am quite flattered," said Graham, "by your supposition; it will be a source of pleasure for me to know that I have so interesting, though so vague a claim upon your good opinion."

  "And not so vague, either," interrupted the general. "Your grandfather, or great uncle,—and I don't know which,—just at the close of the Revolution, married Hetty Bledsoe, and we are certainly third cousins at least."

  Graham laughed, and replied, "he hoped it were true."

  At this instant, the young mistress of Heritage Place came into the room. She was attired in a simple dress of white, and had endeavored to assume a dignified appearance by arranging her hair over her temples; but the straggling curls peeped out quite comically, in spite of her labor: a delicate rosebud and a few green leaves glistened

  "Mrs. Mildmay—General Bledsoe," said Graham, rising.

  The general rose from his seat, and placing his hand upon his heart, he bowed, as if a courtier by profession; and then extending his hand, he just touched the tips of Annie's fingers, and remarked:

  "I am happy to have the pleasure of meeting with a lady whose presence has added so much grace and beauty to our vicinity. At this very moment, I was trying to prove to your good husband that we were some sort of cousins at least; and now," he continued, smiling at Annie, "I shall especially insist that I am right."

  Annie expressed her gratification at Gen. Bledsoe's evident cordiality of manner,—more by her eyes, than by her remarks; the conversation soon become discursive and agreeable, and when Gen. Bledsoe left Heritage Place, a mutual friendship had sprung up between himself and its occupants: and this feeling seemed to have been founded rather upon long years of intercourse, than an accidental meeting of an hour's duration.

  The moment Gen. Bledsoe left, Mildmay ordered "old Uncle Dan" to go to Beechland, and bring up the body of Jack, that it might be decently interred upon the plantation.

  Uncle Dan was an eccentric, stuttering old man, who believed in charms and necromancy, and was looked upon

  "Wha—wha—what make Jack done die for?"

  "You will hear that some other time," said Mildmay, a cloud passing over his face at the recollection of the boy's fate; "do as I tell you, and ask no questions now."

  "But master," said Dan, his face still indicating unmitigated terror, "Wha—wha—what I goin' to do alone wid such a funeral?"

  "Come straight back from town," said Mildmay, sternly; "and if you stop by the way at any of those groggeries on the edge of Beechland, you will regret it, sir, for the rest of the year."

  "Wh'—wh'—why, master, you tink I do dat?" and Dan hobbled off with a manner that would leave an impression upon those who did not know him, that he was exceedingly injured at Mildmay's imputation on his immaculate character.

  Dan went to the stable, and catching a mule that was used for all work, he put on the harness, and then attached the cart; and then having arranged everything to suit his mind, he crept into the loft, and brought down a bag of shelled corn; then going to his own garden-patch, he pulled up a few vegetables, nearly gone to seed, and placed them beside the corn; then jumping over the fence into his mistress's garden, he crawled over his hands and knees among some low bushes, covered by what was once the shed of a bee-house, and dexterously took two setting

  Mildmay, who was temporarily occupied in superintending some repairs in the road, was sitting on his horse, when Dan made his appearance; and as the old negro humbly touched his hat to "master," he remarked:

  "I see, Dan, you have not forgotten the old mule's appetite, judging from the fodder you take along with you."

  Dan covered up the confusion of his face, by pretending to look at something in his rear, and then pulling his old hat over his eyes, as a mark of respect to his master, he passed on without detection. Mildmay under ordinary circumstances would have discovered the fraud, but his mind was too much occupied by the events of the day, to observe all the minor incidents passing before him.

  Dan, as is the case with all old negroes, had a way of conversing with himself, and if you could overhear him, it would be difficult, at first, to imagine that he was really alone, he gave such effect to his "thinking aloud,"—the moment therefore he got out of reach of observation, he commenced giving expression to his thoughts:—

  "Wha-wha-wha-wal, I didn't take de big hens, wha-wha-wha-what was worth something to mistress, not me; tuck de little ones jus worth notin at all—he-he-he—tuck em cause de eggs all done spile by de thunder—and ain't

  In similar pleasant conversation, Dan indulged, until he reached the suburb of Beechland, and then stopping his mule, he cautiously looked around to see if any one was near him, when satisfying himself that he was not observed, he took out his stolen goods, and depositing them with precipitation underneath some brush by the road side, he hobbled into his seat and rode along.

  In a few moments he was in the town—among the old ruined buildings that every where met his eye, was one distinguishable for having doors still on their fastenings, and windows patched with paper, and sashes filled with rags. Across from the front of this wretched house, was painted "Grocery," but some wag had blotted up the bottom curve of the c, and it read, groGery, which was really the idea the sign was intended to convey.

  As Dan neared this noticeable place, he commenced hallooing with unusual vehemence to his mule, at the same time, by pretending the animal would not obey the reins, he managed to land close against the door, which was immediately opened, and Dan was greeted by a rough-looking white man,—a few telegraphic signs passed between the pair, and the negro assuming his naturally innocent and stolid look, continued his journey.

  Passing by a large and evidently substantial store, a very gentlemanly-looking young man hallooed out to Dan.

  "Ho! boy, don't you belong to Mr. Mildmay?"

  "Ye—ye-yes—master," said Dan touching his hat.

  "Then," said the gentleman, "when you go home, stop here, I have something to put in your cart."

  "Ye-ye-es, sir," said Dan, again touching his apology for a hat.

  Without more adventure, Dan reached the court-house, where still lay, and entirely alone, the body of the unfortunate Jack, but now protected from the vulgar gaze, by a straight-sided box, made of rough boards, which had been supplied by the order of the coroner.

  Dan sat in his cart, and filled with strange emotions, eyed askance the wreck of mortality.—As we have said, he was superstitious, and he had a terrible dread of the dead.

  "Wha—wha-wha-what in de world massa send old Dan down here for, spose Jack come back agin, and I 'lone in de woods, wha-wha-wha-what cum of old Dan, ha?" and the poor fellow seemed to expect that every moment he should be assaulted by spirits from another world.

  Not many moments passed, however, before Dan was surrounded by a number of idle negro gossips, and long and dismal stories and fearful reminiscences were given, until from talking and listening, they would start at their own voices—then anxious to get away from the suggesting cause of so much terror, they helped Dan to place the coffin in the cart, and rapidly disappeared.

  The negro, now almost paralyzed with fear and trembling, took out his charm, and addressing the little parcel as if it had been an intelligent being, asked of it to

  "Wa-wa-well," said Dan, as he moved along, "got something else in dat cart to keep old Dan company; s'pose old Dan tinks da-da-da-dat box empty, den it's all right: go 'long, Dick Johnson," jerking the mule, "don't be getting to sleep at dis time ob day. Oh, Lord! wah-a-a-what will become of old niggers?" and for a moment lost in this reflection, he broke out in a loud voice, "Dar's Dick a dancin' wid my gal—le-le-let de cotton grow, who car's—old Dan is all de way from old Kaintuck—Virginny shuffle—master's home—keep de-de-de pot a bilin as you pass over Jourdan. Wha-wha-wha—oh, Lord!"

  Arriving at the place where he deposited his "plunder," he got down from his seat, and looking cautiously around, thrust his hand under the bush, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey "corked" with a corncob; and taking therefrom a hearty swig, he resumed his place, more vociferous than ever.

  Towards midnight the body of Jack was deposited in his humble, but once happy cabin.

  The grave had already been dug; and just as the moon commenced rising above the horizon, a few fellow-servants, who kindly remembered Jack, joined in a funeral

  "Thank old Marster above! Jack's done got free papers at last."

  Major Trimmer was not disappointed in his expectations of a client, when he saw the murdered body of Jack, for he knew that he must be "engaged for the defence," for no sooner had Toadvine time to collect his ideas, than he sent the jailer to the major; as might be expected, Trimmer immediately answered the summons.

  "The first thing to be attended to," said the major, suddenly finding his loquacious tongue, "is the fee; arrange for that, and we will at once proceed to business."

  "And how much will it be?" asked Toadvine, putting his hand in his pocket.

  "A thousand dollars would be a small sum for so bad a case as yours; but, considering you are not too rich, I'll say five hundred."

  "You don't mean to say you charge five hundred for

  "I don't know what you call a little affair," said the major, rising and buttoning his coat, as if intending to go; "if living in the penitentiary for ten years is a little affair, I hope you will have a good time of it."

  "But you don't think it is any thing serious, do you?" inquired Toadvine, becoming alarmed.

  "Why, if being in custody, with a clear sense of killing against you, and the whole community in arms, ain't serious, then I have studied my profession in vain."

  "I see," said Toadvine, his fears coming upon him with tenfold force—"I see, but how can I pay you so large a sum, when I haven't got the money?"

  "Well, what have you got?" inquired the major, sententiously.

  "There's my horse," said Toadvine, with bitterness; "he is worth seventy-five dollars."

  "Well," said the major.

  "Then here is a due-bill on Smithers & Co., drawn at ninety-days by Mr. Mildmay, for one hundred and sixty dollars."

  "Well," echoed the major.

  "And is that not enough to commence with?" gasped Toadvine, for the first time beginning to feel that it did cost something to "kill a nigger."

  "Why," said the major, reckoning a moment in his head," if I take the due-bill even as cash, they will only make two hundred and forty-four dollars; secure

  "You wouldn't go agin me?" said Toadvine, turning pale with apprehension.

  "I must make a living," said the major, as cold as marble.

  "But," said Toadvine, more than ever sorry that he had killed Jack, "I have no other property except an undivided interest in the boy Jo, now in the possession of Col. Price."

  "How much do you own of that nigger?"

  "One half," said Toadvine.

  "And do you think I could buy the other half of Price?"

  "I think not, because, you see, ever since Col. Price parted from his wife, she won't sign away, what he calls, her 'infarnal rights.'"

  "'Paraphernal rights,' you mean," said the major, his eye beaming with conscious superiority.

  "Well, it's something that keeps Price from selling his half of Jo, and that's all I know about it."

  Now the major had informed himself in advance of all the property that Toadvine was worth, so pulling out a paper, and pocket inkstand, he made a preliminary transfer to himself of all Toadvine's worldly goods, viz., the horse,—Mildmay's due-bill,—and the legal possession of half of the negro boy Jo; that being done, the major at once entered upon the business before him, and in less than ten minutes satisfied Toadvine that it was now, easy to get clear of the consequences of killing Jack,—

  After a great deal of "tacking and filling" by the major, more to affect the imagination of his client than any thing else, it was finally agreed that the "habeas corpus" was not to be attempted, because it might be possible that the judge would be strict, as the excitement on the public mind was decidedly against the prisoner. And Major Trimmer came to the conclusion, also, that it was possibly safer for Toadvine to stay in jail than to run the risk of falling into the hands of Gen. Bledsoe and his friends; and by way of consolation to the prisoner, he said: "By lying in jail a few weeks before the trial, it will create a sympathy for you outside; and will enable me to show the jury, that even while the law presumed that you were innocent, you had suffered sufficient punishment, even if guilty of the crime charged:" and with these reasons, Toadvine was content to remain in durance vile.