Garie a few weeks since; it was witnessed and signed at my office, and he brought it away with him. I can't discover it anywhere. I've ransacked every cranny. It must have been carried off by some one. You are named in it conjointly with myself as executor. All the property is left to her, poor thing, and his children. We must endeavour to find it somewhere--at any rate the children are secure; they are the only heirs--he had not, to my knowledge, a single white relative. But let us go in and see the bodies."

They walked together into the back room where the bodies were lying. Mrs.

Garie was stretched upon the sofa, covered with a piano cloth; and her husband was laid upon a long table, with a silk window-curtain thrown across his face.

The two gazed in silence on the face of Mr. Garie--the brow was still knit, the eyes staring vacantly, and the marble whiteness of the face unbroken, save by a few gouts of blood near a small blue spot over the eye where the bullet had entered.

"He was the best-hearted creature in the world," said Walters, as he re-covered the face.

"Won't you look at her?" asked Mr. Balch.

"No, no--I can't," continued Walters; "I've seen horrors enough for one morning. I've another thing on my mind! A friend who a.s.sisted in the defence of my house started up here last night, to warn them of their danger, and when I left home he had not returned: it's evident he hasn't been here, and I greatly fear some misfortune has befallen him. Where are the children? Poor little orphans, I must see them before I go."

Accompanied by Mr. Balch, he called at the house where Clarence and Em had found temporary shelter. The children ran to him as soon as he entered the room. "Oh! Mr. Walters," sobbed Clarence, "my mother's dead--my mother's dead!"

"Hush, dears--hush!" he replied, endeavouring to restrain his own tears, as he took little Em in his arms. "Don't cry, my darling," said he, as she gave rent to a fresh outburst of tears.

"Oh, Mr. Walters!" said she, still sobbing, "she was all the mother I had."

Mr. Balch here endeavoured to a.s.sist in pacifying the two little mourners.

"Why don't father come?" asked Clarence. "Have you seen him, Mr. Walters?"

Mr. Walters was quite taken aback by this inquiry, which clearly showed that the children were still unaware of the extent of their misfortunes.

"I've seen him, my child," said he, evasively; "you'll see him before long." And fearful of further questioning, he left the house, promising soon to return.

Unable longer to endure her anxiety respecting her father, Esther determined not to await the return of Mr. Walters, which had already been greatly delayed, but to go herself in search of him. It had occurred to her that, instead of returning from the Garies direct to them, he had probably gone to his own home to see if it had been disturbed during the night.

Encouraged by this idea, without consulting any one, she hastily put on her cloak and bonnet, and took the direction of her home. Numbers of people were wending their way to the lower part of the city, to gratify their curiosity by gazing upon the havoc made by the rioters during the past night.

Esther found her home a heap of smoking ruins; some of the neighbours who recognized her gathered round, expressing their sympathy and regret. But she seemed comparatively careless respecting the loss of their property; and in answer to their kind expressions, could only ask, "Have you seen my father?--do you know where my father is?"

None, however, had seen him; and after gazing for a short time upon the ruins of what was once a happy home, she turned mournfully away, and walked back to Mr. Walters's.

"Has father come?" she inquired, as soon as the door was opened. "Not yet!" was the discouraging reply: "and Mr. Walters, he hasn't come back, either, miss!"

Esther stood for some moments hesitating whether to go in, or to proceed in her search. The voice of her mother calling her from the stairway decided her, and she went in.

Mrs. Ellis and Caddy wept freely on learning from Esther the destruction of their home. This cause of grief, added to the anxiety produced by the prolonged absence of Mr. Ellis, rendered them truly miserable.

Whilst they were condoling with one another, Mr. Walters returned. He was unable to conceal his fears that something had happened to Mr. Ellis, and frankly told them so; he also gave a detailed account of what had befallen the Garies, to the great horror and grief of all.

As soon as arrangements could be made, Mr. Walters and Esther set out in search of her father. All day long they went from place to place, but gained no tidings of him; and weary and disheartened they returned at night, bringing with them the distressing intelligence of their utter failure to procure any information respecting him.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The Lost One Found.

On the day succeeding the events described in our last chapter, Mr. Walters called upon Mr. Balch, for the purpose of making the necessary preparations for the interment of Mr. and Mrs. Garie.

"I think," said Mr. Balch, "we had better bury them in the Ash-grove cemetery; it's a lovely spot--all my people are buried there."

"The place is fine enough, I acknowledge," rejoined Mr. Walters; "but I much doubt if you can procure the necessary ground."

"Oh, yes, you can!" said Mr. Balch; "there are a number of lots still unappropriated."

"That may very likely be so; but are you sure we can get one if we apply?"

"Of course we can--what is to prevent?" asked Mr. Balch.

"You forget," replied Mr. Walters, "that Mrs. Garie was a coloured woman."

"If it wasn't such a solemn subject I really should be obliged to laugh at you, Walters," rejoined Mr. Balch, with a smile--"you talk ridiculously.

What can her complexion have to do with her being buried there, I should like to know?"

"It has everything to do with it! Can it be possible you are not aware that they won't even permit a coloured person to walk through the ground, much less to be buried there!"

"You astonish me, Walters! Are you sure of it?"

"I give you my word of honour it is so! But why should you be astonished at such treatment of the dead, when you see how they conduct themselves towards the living? I have a friend," continued Mr. Walters, "who purchased a pew for himself and family in a white-church, and the deacons actually removed the floor from under it, to prevent his sitting there.

They refuse us permission to kneel by the side of the white communicants at the Lord's Supper, and give us separate pews in obscure corners of their churches. All this you know--why, then, be surprised that they carry their prejudices into their graveyards?--the conduct is all of a piece."

"Well, Walters, I know the way things are conducted in our churches is exceedingly reprehensible; but I really did not know they stretched their prejudices to such an extent."

"I a.s.sure you they do, then," resumed Mr. Walters; "and in this very matter you'll find I'm correct. Ask Stormley, the undertaker, and hear what he'll tell you. Oh! a case in point.--About six months ago, one of our wealthiest citizens lost by death an old family servant, a coloured woman, a sort of half-housekeeper--half-friend. She resembled him so much, that it was generally believed she was his sister. Well, he tried to have her laid in their family vault, and it was refused; the directors thought it would be creating a bad precedent--they said, as they would not sell lots to coloured persons, they couldn't consistently permit them to be buried in those of the whites."

"Then Ash-grove must be abandoned; and in lieu of that what can you propose?" asked Mr. Balch.

"I should say we can't do better than lay them in the graveyard of the coloured Episcopal church."

"Let it be there, then. You will see to the arrangements, Walters. I shall have enough on my hands for the present, searching for that will: I have already offered a large reward for it--I trust it may turn up yet."

"Perhaps it may," rejoined Mr. Walters; "we must hope so, at least. I've brought the children to my house, where they are under the care of a young lady who was a great friend of their mother's; though it seems like putting too much upon the poor young creature, to throw them upon her for consolation, when she is almost distracted with her own griefs. I think I mentioned to you yesterday, that her father is missing; and, to add to their anxieties, their property has been all destroyed by the rioters. They have a home with me for the present, and may remain there as long as they please."

"Oh! I remember you told me something of them yesterday; and now I come to think of it, I saw in the Journal this morning, that a coloured man was lying at the hospital very much injured, whose name they could not ascertain. Can it be possible that he is the man you are in search of?"

"Let me see the article," asked Mr. Walters. Mr. Balch handed him the paper, and pointed out the paragraph in question.

"I'll go immediately to the hospital," said he, as he finished reading, "and see if it is my poor friend; I have great fears that it is. You'll excuse my leaving so abruptly--I must be off immediately."

On hastening to the hospital, Mr. Walters arrived just in time to be admitted to the wards; and on being shown the person whose name they had been unable to discover, he immediately recognized his friend.

"Ellis, my poor fellow," he exclaimed, springing forward.

"Stop, stop," cried the attendant, laying his hand upon Mr. Walters's shoulder; "he is hovering between life and death, the least agitation might be fatal to him. The doctor says, if he survives the night, he may probably get better; but he has small chance of life. I hardly think he will last twelve hours more, he's been dreadfully beaten; there are two or three gashes on his head, his leg is broken, and his hands have been so much cut, that the surgeon thinks they'll never be of any use to him, even if he recovers."

"What awful intelligence for his family," said Mr. Walters; "they are already half distracted about him."