162 WILD SPOETS m THE SOUTH. 



after an instant of fainting embrace, they turn aside into 

 the Ilex groves that fringe the bank of the lagoon. • 



" ' Ortez, does not honor call thee to the dead man's 

 side ? Ortez, does not thy wife's low voice, that saved 

 thee once, beseech thee now ?' 



" Ha ! who hears voices pleading in the mad tumultu- 

 ous hours of night — thought comes with the bare-faced 

 morn. The glare of the torrid day is for rest, and 

 penance, and prayers ; and the tropical night is pas- 

 sion's own holiday, when love and hate roll like the 

 sea." 



" Hold there, and turn doTVTi a leaf," called out the 

 Doctor. " That's pure error. It is the day that is made 

 for action, ambition and hope— far reaching pride, and 

 quick deeds come with the sunshine. Then man does 

 his works for good or evil ; but when the day is gone, 

 the grey of twilight, the chill hush of voice, and emble- 

 matic sleep, bring thought and repentance. His good 

 spirit comes to him then, and whispers of errors done, 

 and cools his ambition ; and, if he is a true man, he says 

 his prayers, and " 



" Goes to bed," laughed Jackson. " That's all very 

 nice for a man who lives in a land where water freezes 

 after dark, and nobody but a bear can keep out at nights 

 without the ague. That is not the way the hot blood 

 rolls in the Creole veins ; nor was it the way that the 

 Spanish soldier reasoned with the Indian girl. Where 

 was I ?" 



"Ortez had just met the Indian girl." 



