"Look at this," said Iola, handing him a locket which contained her mother's picture.
Robert grasped the locket eagerly, scanned the features attentively, then, handing it back, said: "I have only a faint remembrance of my sister's features; but I never could recognize in that beautiful woman the dear little sister with whom I used to play. Oh, the cruelty of slavery! How it wrenched and tore us apart! Where is your mother now?"
"Oh, I cannot tell," answered Iola. "I left her in Mississippi. My father was a wealthy Creole planter, who fell in love with my mother. She was his slave, but he educated her in the North, freed, and married her. My father was very careful to have the fact of our negro blood concealed from us. I had not the slightest suspicion of it. When he was dead the secret was revealed. His white relations set aside my father's will, had his marriage declared invalid, and my mother and her children were remanded to slavery." Iola shuddered as she pronounced the horrid word, and grew deadly pale; but, regaining her self-possession, continued: "Now, that freedom has come, I intend to search for my mother until I find her."
"I do not wonder," said Robert, "that we had this war. The nation had sinned enough to suffer."
"Yes," said Iola, "if national sins bring down national judgments, then the nation is only reaping what it sowed."
"What are your plans for the future, or have you any?" asked Robert.
"I intend offering myself as a teacher in one of the schools which are being opened in different parts of the |
