In the meantime Mr. and Mrs. Savage were becoming more and more interested in the child, Lola, whom they had adopted, and who was fast developing into an intellectual and beautiful girl, whose bright, sparkling hazel eyes, snow-white teeth and alabaster complexion caused her to be admired by all. In time, Lola become highly educated, and was duly introduced into the best society.
The cholera of 1832, in its ravages, swept off many of St. Louis’ most valued citizens, and among them, Mr. George Savage. Mrs. Savage, who was then in ill-health, regarded Lola with even greater solicitude, than during the lifetime of her late husband. Lola had been amply provided for by Mr. Savage, in his will. She was being courted by Mr. Martin Phelps, previous to the death of her adopted father, and the failing health of Mrs. Savage hastened the nuptials.
The marriage of Mr. Phelps and Miss Savage partook more of a private than of a public affair, owing to the recent death of Mr. Savage. Mr. Phelps’ residence was at the outskirts of the city, in the vicinity of what was known as the “Mound,” and was a lovely spot. The lady had brought considerable property to her husband.
One morning in the month of December, and only about three months after the marriage of the Phelps’s, two men alighted from a carriage, at Mr. Phelps’ door, rang the bell, and were admitted by the servant. Mr. Phelps hastened from the breakfast-table, as the servant informed him of the presence of the strangers.
On entering the sitting-room, the host recognized one of the men as Officer Mull, while the other announced himself as James Walker, and said,—
“I have come, Mr. Phelps, on rather an unpleasant errand. You’ve got a slave in your house that belongs to me.”
“I think you are mistaken, sir,” replied Mr. Phelps; “my servants are all hired from Major Ben. O’Fallon.”
Walker put on a sinister smile, and blandly continued, “I see, sir, that you don’t understand me. Ten years ago I bought a slave child from Dr. Gaines, and lent her to Mr. George Savage, and I understand she’s in your employ, and I’ve come to get her,” and here the slave speculator took from his side pocket a large sheepskin pocket book, and drew forth the identical bill of sale of Lola, given to him by Dr. Gaines at the time of the selling of Isabella and the child.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Mr. Phelps, “that paper, if it means anything, it means my wife.”
“I can’t help what it means,” remarked Walker; “here’s the bill of sale, and here’s the officer to get me my nigger.”