“After leaving the interior,” continued our hero, “and returning to the coast, I visited various towns in order to observe the state of the slaves in the Portuguese settlements, and, truly, what I saw was most deplorable—demoralisation and cruelty, and the obstruction of lawful trade, prevailed everywhere. The settlements are to my mind a very pandemonium on earth. Every one seemed to me more or less affected by the accursed atmosphere that prevails. Of course there must be some exceptions. I met with one, at the last town I visited, in the person of Governor Letotti.”
“Letotti!” exclaimed Lindsay, stopping abruptly.
“Yes!” said Harold, in some surprise at the lieutenant’s manner, “and a most amiable man he was—”
“Was!—was! What do you mean? Is—is he dead?” exclaimed Lindsay, turning pale.
“He died suddenly just before I left,” said Harold.
“And Maraquita—I mean his daughter—what of her?” asked the lieutenant, turning as red as he had previously turned pale.
Harold noted the change, and a gleam of light seemed to break upon him as he replied:—
“Poor girl, she was overwhelmed at first by the heavy blow. I had to quit the place almost immediately after the event.”
“Did you know her well?” asked Lindsay, with an uneasy glance at his companion’s handsome face.
“No; I had just been introduced to her shortly before her father’s death, and have scarcely exchanged a dozen sentences with her. It is said that her father died in debt, but of course in regard to that I know nothing certainly. At parting, she told me that she meant to leave the coast and go to stay with a relative at the Cape.”