The next letter advised us that my parents were well, and that the sickness, so far, had not penetrated to the faubourg, or district, where they lived.

The following week brought less cheering tidings.

My father's business, in consequence of the flight of the other partners, would keep him in the city beyond the period he had mentioned.
The family had moved to Pass Christian, a favorite watering-place on Lake Pontchartrain, near New Orleans, where he was able to spend part of each week.

So the return North was postponed indefinitely.
It was now that the old longing to see my parents came back to me with irresistible force.

I knew my grandfather would not listen to the idea of my going to New Orleans at such a dangerous time, since he had opposed the journey so strongly when the same objection did not exist.
But I determined to go nevertheless.
I think I have mentioned the fact that all the male members of our family, on my father's side--as far back as the Middle Ages--have exhibited in early youth a decided talent for running away.