"A splendid career, ha, ha, Esther, yes a splendid career for the White Slave! You forget, good girl, that we have negro blood in our veins. How much wealth do you think it would require to blot out the memory of the past? Suppose we are successful on the twenty-fifth of December,—suppose the mysterious trustee of the Van Huyden estate recognizes us as the children of one of the Seven,—suppose that we receive a share of this immense wealth—well, Esther, what will it avail us? Wherever we turn, the whisper will ring in our ears, 'They have negro blood in their veins. Their mother was descended from the black race. True, they look whiter than the palest of the Caucasian race, but—but'—(do you hear it, Esther?) 'but they have negro blood in their veins.'"
He started from his chair, and his sister saw, even by the dim light which came through the half-drawn window-curtains, that his chest heaved, and his face was distorted by a painful emotion.
She also arose.
"Randolph," she whispered, and laid her hand gently on his arm, "Randolph, my brother, I say it again, come wealth or poverty, you have a career before you. In Europe we may find a home,—"
"Europe!" he echoed, "And must we go to Europe, in order to be permitted to live? No, Esther, no! I am an American, yes,"—and his voice, low and deep, echoed proudly through the stillness of the dimly-lighted room,—"yes, I am a Carolinian, ay, a South Carolinian; South Carolina is my home; while I live, I will not cease to assert my right to a place, ay, and no dishonorable place—on my native soil."
He passed his sister's arm through his own, and led her gently over the carpet, which, soft as down, returned no echo to their tread. The lofty ceiling stretched above them, in the vague twilight; and on either hand were the walls adorned with paintings and statues. The mirror, which but dimly reflected their forms, flashed gently through the gloom.
"And Esther, there is one reason why I will not become an exile, which I have never spoken to mortal ears—not even to yours, my sister. It was communicated to me by my father, before I left for Europe: he placed proofs in my possession which do not admit of denial. Sister, my epistle!—Here, in the dimly-lighted room, to which we have been guided by an unknown friend,—here, surrounded by mystery, and with the marks of wealth all about us,—here, as the crisis of our fate draws near, let me breathe the secret in your ears."
He paused in the center of the room. His sister felt his arm tremble as he drew her to his side. His voice betrayed, in its earnest yet faltering tones, an unfathomable emotion. And Esther clinging to his side, and looking up into his face—which she could scarcely discern through the gloom—felt her bosom swell, and her breath come painfully in gasps, as she was made, involuntarily, a sharer of her brother's agitation.
"Randolph," she said, "what can be the secret, which you have kept ever from me, your sister?"
"I will not leave this country, in the first place, because I am of its soil," he answered, "and because, first and last, it is no common right, which binds me to my native land. Come, Esther, to the window, where the light will help my words; you shall know all—"