It was by this time dark enough to make candles needful in the room; yet upon the western sky, as I gazed at it from the window, were still traced one or two lines of ruby light, with other lines which, probably, in the day, would have seemed but faint streaks of mist, now changed into a leaden blue by the approaching night. The principal features of the landscape also were still visible, though all the minor objects were lost. A glistening river reflected the colour of the western sky like a stream of blood; the undulating slopes of the land sometimes caught, on the summits, a touch of light, but were generally dark and grey; the distant trees in one or two places let through between their holes a glimpse of the fervid sunset sky; and high above were stars beginning to look out, eager for the departure of him who made them veil their glory. Nearer, far nearer, however, were little stars of earth. From under every bush, and amongst the branches of every fruit tree, dancing, skimming, now suddenly appearing, now suddenly eclipsed, were the fire-flies, those beautiful, most beautiful insects. I had seen many in Italy, coming out in clouds from the willows by the way-side, in the neighbourhood of Mantua and Modena. There, they looked like little sparks of fire, red in colour, whirling and bursting forth in clouds; but these in Virginia were larger, calmer, of a softer and more beautiful light, sometimes yellow like the moon, sometimes even of a bluish tinge, but exceedingly bright, and comparable to nothing I know of but small shooting stars. A spirit of calm enjoyment came over me after my hot and dusty ride, which I was in no haste to cast off; and I know not how long I should have gazed and pondered, but to the music of the piano were soon added the tones of a voice singing; and, resolving to improve the time to the utmost, I rose to search for my saddle-bags, and to ring for my good friend Zed. The room, I have said, contained everything requisite for comfort; but there was one exception. No such thing as a bell was to be seen. As if my step, however, awoke attendance, I had hardly reached the table when the door opened, and a neat little black boy in a white jacket presented himself, carrying in his hand a pair of slippers and a night cap. He asked, with the usual grin, if he could do anything for me; and, without waiting for a reply, pounced at once upon the saddle-bags, began untrussing them, and distributed their contents very skilfully in a chest of drawers. He was evidently well taught, though he could not refrain--what negro boy of fourteen could?--from examining curiously many of the unknown articles which he brought forth, and especially one of Palmer's neat little roll dressing-cases, which seemed to puzzle him amazingly. It was too much for human nature; and at length he turned, and simply asked me what it was. As I opened it to his eyes, he burst into a joyous peal of laughter, and, I could clearly perceive, would fain have been fingering the razors and other articles; but I dismissed him and told him to send my servant up. After dressing myself, and giving some directions to Zed, I walked down stairs again, looked in at the dining-room door to insure that I should find some known faces in the other room; and then crossing to the door which Mr. Thornton had pointed out, I entered with as much quiet dignity as a man of seven-and-twenty can assume. Instantly a blaze of light and a blaze of cheerful faces met my eyes. Mr. Thornton himself and the three other gentlemen whom I had seen before were there; but, besides these, the company included an elderly lady with silver hair and a very white cap, half a dozen fair-haired, bright-eyed girls of various ages from thirteen to twenty, two little boys, and a young man of about one-and-twenty. There was moreover in that room a young lady, very different in appearance from any of the rest, with jet black hair, dark eyes, and a fair skin, which nevertheless showed the brunette in its tint. She was small in every respect: her form, her feet, her hands were all miniatures; and, though exceedingly delicate and symmetrical, the whole had an aspect of insignificance, if I may so call it, at the first sight. She was tastefully and even elegantly dressed; though there was something a little fantastic in a bunch of wild leaves which she had entwined in her hair. As I entered, she was moving from the piano; and I naturally concluded she was the goddess of the song I had heard. She drew back, however, to the further side of the room when she saw me; and Mr. Thornton, rising, put his hand gently under my arm and led me forward to the old lady whom he named as Mrs. Thornton.

"These are my daughters," he added, waving his hand around the blue-eyed, fair-haired group. "This, my cousin, Mr. Dudley," introducing the young gentleman. "These two, my boys; and this, my saucy niece, Bessy. Nay, Bessy, come forth and don't affect what you never felt in your life, namely, shyness."

"Nay, my dear uncle," she answered, "I am not the least shy; but it was necessary to give you time to introduce all the generations of Adam, and to let this gentleman receive them into his cogitations. You did not tell me his name, however." This was a point which Mr. Thornton and I had not settled; but he answered, at once, with a shrewd twinkle of the eye,--

"Mr. Howard, my dear--Mr. Richard Howard. You are cousins, of course; for the Davenports, being related to all the best blood of England, must count cousinship with the Howards, beyond doubt. So make much of him, Bessy--make much of him." While her uncle had been speaking, Miss Davenport had surveyed me from head to foot, with an air which I must not call impudent nor even assured, but with a certain degree of saucy fun in the expression of her countenance, which I cannot say was altogether agreeable to me. I hate piquante women, and would a great deal rather that a woman had no wit at all, than that her wit should trench upon her womanly qualities. A strong-minded woman is worse; for then the feminine characteristics are almost obliterated--though you are sure to find out the woman somewhere; but the next bad thing to that is the piquante woman, whose wit overbears her tenderness. Still I was a little doubtful whether this was altogether the case with the fair lady before me; for, as soon as I perceived the way she scanned me,--and, being apparently rather short-sighted, she even put up a double eye-glass, to look at me more accurately,--I fixed my eyes quietly on her face, seeking to read something therein while she was examining me. The moment she detected me in so doing, the glass was removed, the eye-lids dropped, and a slight rosy colour came up in her cheeks, like day-dawn purpling the pale East. The next moment she said, as if in reply to her uncle's last words--

"My cousin is very welcome, then, to Virginia, Uncle Henry. God be praised, his name is Richard; for we have had Roberts enough in our race to extinguish any family under the sun."

"And pray what have the Roberts done to be so slandered, Bessy?" asked the elderly gentleman who had been introduced to me as Mr. Hubbard, walking across the room and addressing her in a tone of fatherly kindness.

"What have they not done?" interrogated Miss Davenport, with a gay laugh, "from Robert the Norman, and Robert the rhymer downwards. The records of horse-stealing and petty larceny are full of Roberts. Why in a book Uncle Henry lent me the other day, I counted at least twenty of them who had been convicted of one offence or another, to say nothing of a near relation of mine who would have cheated me out of everything I had in the world, if my uncle here would have let him."

"You forget my name is Robert, too?" replied Mr. Hubbard.

"Ah, my dear friend," she answered, laying her hand gently on his arm, "you are the exception, you know, which proves the general rule."

"And you are the greatest little hypocrite that ever lived," replied Mr. Hubbard, with a kindly smile. "Ay, I know you, Bessy. You cannot cheat me." Her face grew crimson; but she answered as briskly as ever:--

"All men think they know women's characters, but they know nothing at all about them; and how should an old bachelor know anything of woman? You had a great deal better marry me, and I will soon show you how well you understand me. We are not within the prohibited degrees, I think, cousin Hubbard, are we? Your great grandmother was my great grandmother's fifteenth cousin on the mother's side, if I recollect rightly; so the doors of the church are open to us, I fancy. But I will look in the prayer-book and see when I get up stairs, and tell you all about it to-morrow, and ask you to fix the day. But, my dear uncle, 'tis very sultry. Let us go into the porch." She was passing through us towards the drawing-room, when I detained her for a moment, to ask if she would not let me hear more distinctly the sweet voice I had heard singing at a distance. She looked up in my face with a quiet smile, saying,--

"I could answer you from the Bible, if I liked; but I will only reply--distance gives softness to everything, Mr. Howard. I will not dispel the illusion."

"How from the Bible?" I asked.

"Nay, nay," she replied; "I must not let my light, idle spirits carry me away into profanity. Sometimes, you know, the words of books we are much accustomed to read, come very aptly to the purpose, though very much out of reason. All I meant to say, that, while I was playing and singing, none of you gentlemen would come in; and now the opera is over I cannot do any more to-night; unless you all like to stand up and have a dance, and then I'll play for you until my fingers ache." Thus saying, she made her way to the door, and went out into the porch of the house. One by one most of the others followed; and I could see the sweet scene lying before the house, with the moonlight resting on the dewy grass, and the fire-flies flashing along the lawn. Even old Mrs. Thornton took her work in her hand, and followed the rest; and I was moving in the same direction, when Mr. Thornton stopped me, saying,--

"I want to talk to you a little." Then, lowering his voice, he added: "It is better that we should have a short conversation to-night upon points which, if I understand rightly, may considerably affect the matter in hand. I may be mistaken in the conclusions I have come to. As far as I have gone, I can have done no harm; but, as my friend Byles there would say, 'A hound that gets on a false scent, may be easily driven back at the beginning; but, if he runs on long, Heaven only knows where he will go to.'"

"I thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Thornton," I replied. "I want advice--I may want assistance; and, above all things, I want what the French would call la carte du pays."

"You shall have it as far as I can give it," said Mr. Thornton. "Just follow me into my little room, and we will have a clear understanding before we sleep." He opened a door at the other side of the parlour, and led the way across a stone hall, where we passed two or three negroes, all apparently as joyous and merry as they could be; but I was too much occupied with thoughts of my own to take the notice of them which I should have taken a day or two before. Consideration had been forced upon me rapidly. I was obliged to come to a conclusion much sooner than I had expected; and the question was, whether I was to place full confidence in my accidental host--to tell him all about myself and my own plans, or only to tell him as much as I could not conceal without ungentlemanly insincerity. His manner, his appearance, his language, were all those of a high-bred gentleman; his establishment was apparently that of a wealthy man; and there was a comfortable, home-like respectability about everything, that induced one to argue thus:--

"A man who has led such a life as this up to his age, is not likely to fall from it or to be subject to degrading and ruinous vices." But the conversation which I had heard between the master of the schooner and the slave-trader, as I came down the Chesapeake, did not connect the name of Thornton with very favourable memories. Before I could make up my mind exactly how to act, we were in the little book-room or library he had mentioned: and he courteously motioned me to a well-stuffed easy chair, while he took another on the opposite side of the table. For a moment an awkward pause ensued; and he then said,--

"Do not let me appear obtrusive or inquisitive; but I think I have the pleasure of speaking to Sir Richard Conway?" I bowed my head, replying,--

"The same, Mr. Thornton. From what has fallen from you, I imagine that we are no very distant connections, although it is by the merest accident I stopped at your house."

"My dear sir," he rejoined, "you have fallen into the midst of relations. Almost every one you saw around you is more or less connected with you, by blood or marriage. My uncle married your aunt; consequently we are first cousins, in law at least; all my children are in the next degree to you. Mr. Hubbard is as nearly connected. Mr. Alsiger stands in the same relationship, and our pretty little Bessy is your second cousin by blood." He paused, and thought for a moment, and then added, in a very grave tone,--

"So far this is all very satisfactory---that you should have come here in the first instance--that you should have come incog.--and that I should have divined all about it by a certain resemblance that you bear to an old picture at your aunt's house. But much must be thought of, Sir Richard--much must be told--many plans must be arranged. We must make a late sitting of it tonight, that you may have time to sleep over the matter, and take what steps you think fit to-morrow, not without deliberation. But, hark! There is a horse trotting up to the house." Walking to the door, he opened it, calling to one of the negroes, and saying--"C[ae]sar, tell Mr. Hubbard I hope he is not going home to-night. He is in the porch. Say I want to see him, to have some conversation with him." Then, turning to me, he added--"His advice may be very useful to us; he was once one of the most eminent counsel in Virginia; but his voice has become feeble; and he quitted the bar in consequence, I believe, of a rude judge saying to him--'Speak out, Mr. Hubbard! Neither judge nor jury can hear you.' He answered quietly, 'The ears of justice are somewhat deaf in Virginia.' But he never appeared at the bar again. His advice, however, is always excellent, for it's law and it's honesty. I would not advise a rogue to consult him; but he is the best adviser for a man of honour." He had hardly concluded the last sentence, when the servant to whom he had called opened the door, and said, in much better English than the negroes usually employ,--

"A gentleman, come on horseback, wants to speak with you, sir."

"Show him in," said Mr. Thornton promptly; but then added, "What sort of a man is he, C[ae]sar?"

"Very smart gentleman, sir," answered Caesar, with a slight snigger, if I may use such an expression. "Too smart; has got a good horse though."

"Well, show him in," repeated Mr. Thornton. The moment after, who should be ushered into the room but my fellow-traveller, Mr. Lewis himself, as much bedizened with rings and diamonds as ever. Mr. Thornton arose from his seat as the other entered, surveyed him quietly, and then remained standing. What it was in his air and manner I do not know; but I came to the conclusion merely from his look, that he comprehended in a moment the character of his visitor, and I watched the little scene that ensued with no slight interest.

"Mr. Thornton, I presume?" said Mr. Lewis, with a sweet soft air.

"The same, sir," replied Mr. Thornton, bowing. "In what way can I serve you?"

"Why, I have a little business to speak upon with you, Mr. Thornton," replied Mr. Lewis, with a side glance at me, whose full face he could not discern, as I sat with my back partly towards the door by which he had entered. "But perhaps we had better be private."

"As far as I am concerned," answered Mr. Thornton, "I do not know that there is anything I should not desire to be said in the presence of this gentleman; and if the business refers to anybody else, I always prefer that the communication should be made in writing, that I may think over my reply. Pray be seated," he added; and Mr. Lewis took a seat.

"Oh, if you, Mr. Thornton, don't mind, I don't," replied the other. "The matter is a very simple one--a mere matter of business. In short, I heard a few days ago that you had a lot of niggers for sale--some fifty or sixty; and though the lot is but a small one, I thought I would just step in and ask, as I was going up the country. No man can afford to give a better price than I can. I am known to treat well all I buy; and I just judged you might think it better to sell them to me, than to bring them to the hammer." A bright red spot had come up in Mr. Thornton's cheek; a deep furrow gathered between his eyebrows; his eye flashed; he set his teeth hard; and I thought there was some very violent answer coming. But instead of that, he remained perfectly silent for at least a minute, beating the ground with his foot.

"Pray where do you come from, sir?" he asked, at length, in a perfectly quiet tone.

"I live in Baltimore," answered Mr. Lewis; "but I do my principal business in New Orleans. I dare say we can make a trade, Mr. Thornton, for I deal as liberal as any man." Again Mr. Thornton remained silent, looking at the carpet. Then turning suddenly upon the other, he said, in a loud, stern voice,--

"You make a great mistake, sir. Let me tell you, no Virginian gentleman sells his servants, except in one of two cases. He is either bankrupt himself, or the servant whom he sells is too bad for him to keep. There is not one servant I have whom I would part with to you or any man, so long as he serves me faithfully, and I have the means to give him food. God grant it may never be otherwise!" Mr. Lewis turned a little white; but he stammered forth, in what seemed to be a somewhat impudent tone,--

"No offence, sir, I hope--no offence. I was informed positively----"

"I know, sir--I comprehend," interrupted Mr. Thornton, waving his hand. "You have been labouring under a mistake, which excuses your proposal. My name is Henry Thornton, sir. The person you wished to see is William Thornton, a distant relation of mine. There have been some painful mistakes already." Mr. Lewis still kept his seat, nowise abashed, though somewhat cowed; and, after biting his nether lip for a moment, he asked,--

"Pray, how far is it to Mr. William Thornton's?"

"About fifteen miles," answered my host drily.

"Lord bless my soul!" cried the trader, "what shall I do? My horse is dead tired; and I do not know the way." Mr. Thornton sat mute for a moment or two; and there was evidently a struggle within him. The old feelings of hospitality triumphed in a degree, however. "All the rooms in my house," he said, at length, "will, I believe, be occupied to-night; but there is one at the overseer's at your service. I will call a servant to show you the way." Approaching the door, he again called C[ae]sar, saying,--

"Conduct that gentleman to Mr. Jones's, and beg him to supply him with supper and what accommodation he may want." Then, with a very stiff bow, he saw Mr. Lewis depart, and closed the door after him.

"A slave-dealer never slept in this house since it was built," he said, in a somewhat apologetic tone, as soon as the man was gone. "I should almost be afraid of its catching fire, if he remained in it all night." He then broke into a laugh, partly gay and partly sarcastic, as it seemed to me; and, after musing for a moment, he observed,--

"This is strange--very strange, that he should have come here this night of all others in the week; but I am sorry now I dismissed him so rapidly. We have already got one good hint from him, Sir Richard, and perhaps might get more--though I do not much like fish that breed in muddy waters."

"I really do not understand you, Mr. Thornton," I answered. "This good man came down in the boat with me from Baltimore to Norfolk; and I heard some conversation going on between him and the master of the vessel, about the probable sale of a Mr. Thornton's slaves."

"And very likely thought I was the Mr. Thornton," said my host, with a quiet smile. "Nay, make no excuse; it was a very natural mistake. But the case is this--Mr. William Thornton is my first cousin, with a hitch in the consanguinity which had almost made me, like an Irishman, call him my first cousin once removed. His father and my father were half-brothers; but his father was the elder by two or three years. They were both brothers of Colonel Thornton, who married your excellent aunt, Bab. Now, Colonel Thornton was as good a man as ever lived; but, having been a gay, dashing soldier, he had maintained in his household that sort of fine old Virginian economy which has brought so many of our best families to ruin. He was very nearly on the brink thereof when he married your aunt. Her fortune served, in some degree, to patch up his; her wise economy did the rest, without his ever perceiving that his native hospitality slackened in the least degree; so that, at the end of twenty years, he found himself, to his great surprise, a rich man, with an unencumbered estate. They had no children, unfortunately; and, very naturally, at his death, he left all he had to her who had saved it for him. Now we come to your part of the matter. Your aunt survived her husband twelve or fourteen years; and though she had not seen her own land, or any of her relations, except Mrs. Davenport and one other, for well nigh half a century, her heart naturally turned, on her death-bed, to those whose blood flowed in her own veins; and, as we all understood, she left her property to you."

"I have the will with me, duly authenticated," I replied.

"That is all right," rejoined Mr. Thornton; "but you were written to more than two years ago, and never answered."

"I beg your pardon," I replied. "I did answer as soon as I got the letters. I was then in India with my regiment, so that neither of them reached me for several months; but the first I received I answered at once, and the second very shortly after I received it, requesting further information as to the nature and extent of the property, and what steps were necessary to make it secure."

"Two letters!" ejaculated Mr. Thornton, thoughtfully. "I only know of one having been written to you. Do you remember the signatures?"

"I have them both up stairs," I answered. "One, I now remember, was signed 'Hubbard,' and advised my coming over immediately. The second was, I think, signed 'Robert Thornton, Attorney-at-law,' who desired I would send him out a power of attorney to act for me."

"This man's son!" exclaimed Mr. Thornton. "We never heard of that, and never received any answer to the first letter--perhaps it was intercepted. However, Mr. William Thornton almost immediately took out letters of administration to Colonel Thornton's property, as his next of kin--although your aunt had so long enjoyed undisputed possession. He has since, with the aid of this hopeful son of his, been fencing himself in with all sorts of legal forms and quibbles--has got possession of the negroes, let the old house and plantation, and is now, we understand, moving the legislature to escheat the property and grant it to him; the heirs being, as he declares, aliens."

"But does your law sanction such doings?" I asked.

"It sanctions a good many things that it should not sanction," replied Mr. Thornton; "and these matters of escheat and administration are so loosely managed here, that the property of persons dying without relations actually on the spot is an object of speculation and a means of livelihood to half the rogues in the state. Thank God, my dear young friend, you are here at last; for it is not too late yet to stop this iniquitous affair, though he has sold all the cattle and all the horses, which is a dead loss, I suppose."

"But can he not be made accountable?" I inquired. Mr. Thornton smiled.

"There are two sorts of banks," he answered, "from one of which you can draw money, from the other nothing but pebblestones. Now, Mr. William Thornton's bank is of the latter quality. The court required security, it is true, when they granted the letters of administration, but took men who are more deeply bankrupt than himself. That is the way we manage things in Virginia, especially when the people who are really interested do not appear to take care of their own property."

"But, my dear sir," I replied, "it was impossible. I was in India with my regiment. As some battles were coming on--expected every day--it was impossible either to ask for leave of absence or to sell out, until the war was at an end. As soon as that occurred, I did sell out; for the climate did not agree with me. I got bilious, and home-sick, and moody; disliked pillaus, abominated rice, and could not bear curry; was thoroughly disgusted with pale ale and claret, and thought Allahabad's sun the most unpleasant gentleman that ever rode the sky. Besides, I did not know what my aunt had left me. It might have been nothing but an old farthingale, for aught I knew to the contrary." Mr. Thornton laughed at the description of my disgust with India, but grew serious again directly, saying, "I beg your pardon. It is a very richly embroidered farthingale, I can assure you; as fine a plantation as any in Virginia, worth at least, under good management, from twelve to fifteen thousand dollars a year; a nice old house, somewhat like this; a good deal of scattered property; and about fifty negroes. The rest she emancipated; but these preferred to remain in their old condition, being accustomed to no other, and feeling that they wanted somebody to take care of them. Poor creatures! I dare say they are sorry enough now; but they had no notion into whose hands they are going to fall." His words made me muse for a moment. I then said, "Still, Mr. Thornton, I do not see how the words of that man Lewis, who was here just now, gave us any serviceable hint."

"Why don't you perceive?" he answered; "these fifty negroes, whom William Thornton wishes to sell, are the very fifty which your aunt left. He has not half a dozen of his own. He dare not bring these to the hammer, for fear of somebody opposing him; but if he gets rid of them by private sale, and sends them to New Orleans, we may whistle as long as we will, without getting either the servants or the money back again. But we had better consult Hubbard. Have you any objection to my telling him who you are? He will see the necessity of secrecy as well as we do."

"Not in the slightest degree," I answered. Mr. Thornton now rose and left the room. In two minutes he returned, bringing with him Mr. Hubbard, who seemed somewhat impatient of mood, saying, as he passed the door, "But really, Henry, I must get home. Positively I cannot stay to-night. I have got an attack of sciatica coming on. I feel it quite plainly; and nobody can nurse me like old Betty, you know." Mr. Thornton thrust him down into a chair, however, saying, "Rest your sciatica there, and let me introduce you to your cousin and mine, Sir Richard Conway." Mr. Hubbard rubbed the spectacles he had in his hand with the tail of his coat, put them on his nose, and gazed at me.

"Sir Richard Conway!" he exclaimed. "God bless my soul! I thought you were an older man. Well, I am very happy to see you, however; though you should either have come over sooner or answered my letter." All the explanations had now to be given anew; but he took my excuses in very good part, and plunged at once into an ocean of family affairs and points of law, which made him totally forget his sciatica and his desire to return home. The discussion was long; but it was highly beneficial and necessary. A definite course of action was laid out, to be commenced on the following morning; and at about half-past nine o'clock we arose from our conference, with the satisfaction of knowing that we were in a fair way of frustrating as iniquitous a scheme as was ever devised. I walked at once out towards the porch, where I heard music and singing going on of a simple kind, but of no very inferior quality, and I imagined that my fair connection, Bessy Davenport, had been prevailed upon to grant to others what she had refused to me. I was mistaken, however; she was leaning against one of the pillars, looking up at the moon. The music proceeded from a negro boy, sixteen or seventeen years of age, who was seated on one of the steps of the porch, cheek-by-jowl with one of Mr. Thornton's younger daughters, and playing on an instrument called a banjo--a sort of circular-bodied guitar, the strings of which he struck with the most extraordinary rapidity and skill, while he accompanied the sounds thus produced with the notes of a rich mellow voice, singing a wild negro song about--

"The shocking of the corn."

He was near the end of it when I came up, and I would willingly have encored it; but he changed at once to a very merry air; and a group of young people of the same complexion as himself, who had been standing round resting, I presumed, commenced dancing on the lawn with a right good will. They threw themselves into strange and grotesque, but sometimes picturesque and not ungraceful attitudes; and their whirling dark figures, the bright moonlight, and the flashing of the fireflies, actually amongst their feet, formed a scene I shall not easily forget. We stood gazing until the clock struck ten, little or no conversation going on meanwhile; but then Bessy Davenport and Louisa Thornton, my host's eldest daughter, came towards the door near which I stood. The former held out her hand frankly, saying.--

"Good night, Cousin Howard. We are all early birds here. May quiet dreams attend you; and if you ask me civilly, tomorrow, I will sing you 'Old Virginia,' or something equally classical." Thus ended my first evening on a Virginia plantation. In my own room, I ruminated on it all for half an hour, with sober pleasure. There had been something to amuse, something to interest, but nothing to excite or to disturb; and the mind could rest upon the memories of that day without one agitating sensation. I was a little fatigued with my hot ride, however, and at length I lay down on as soft a bed as I had ever met with, and my eyes closed quietly.