The Quadroon, by Captain Mayne Reid. 

CHAPTER ONE. 

THE FATHER OF WATERS. 

Father of Waters! I worship thy mighty stream! As the Hindoo by theshores of his sacred river, I kneel upon thy banks, and pour forth mysoul in wild adoration!

Far different are the springs of our devotion. To him, the waters ofhis yellow Ganges are the symbols of a superstitious awe, commingledwith dark fears for the mystic future; to me, thy golden wares are thesouvenirs of joy, binding the present to the known and happy past. Yes, mighty river! I worship thee in the past. My heart fills with joy atthe very mention of thy name!

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Father of Waters! I know thee well. In the land of a thousand lakes, on the summit of the "_Hauteur de terre_, " I have leaped thy tinystream. Upon the bosom of the blue lakelet, the fountain of thy life, Ihave launched my birchen boat; and yielding to thy current, have floatedsoftly southward. I have passed the meadows where the wild rice ripenson thy banks, where the white birch mirrors its silvery stem, and tall_coniferae_ fling their pyramid shapes, on thy surface. I have seen thered Chippewa cleave thy crystal waters in his bark canoe--the giantmoose lave his flanks in thy cooling flood--and the stately wapiti boundgracefully along thy banks. I have listened to the music of thyshores--the call of the cacawee, the laugh of the wa-wa goose, and thetrumpet-note of the great northern swan. Yes, mighty river! Even inthat far northern land, thy wilderness home, have I worshipped thee!

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Onward through many parallels of latitude--through many degrees of thethermal line!

I stand upon thy banks where thou leapest the rocks of Saint Antoine, and with bold frothing current cleavest thy way to the south. Already Inote a change in the aspect of thy shores. The _coniferae_ havedisappeared, and thou art draped with a deciduous foliage of livelierhue. Oaks, elms, and maples, mingle their frondage, and stretch theirbroad arms over thee. Though I still look upon woods that seemillimitable, I feel that the wilderness is past. My eyes are greeted bythe signs of civilisation--its sounds fall upon my ear. The hewncabin--picturesque in its rudeness--stands among prostrate trunks; andthe ring of the lumberer's axe is heard in the far depths of the forest. The silken blades of the maize wave in triumph over fallen trees, itsgolden tassels giving promise of a rich return. The spire of the churchpeers above the green spray of the woods, and the prayer of theChristian ascends to heaven sublimely mingling with the roar of thywaters!

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I launch my boat once more on thy buoyant wave; and, with heart asbuoyant, glide onward and southward. I pass between bold bluffs thathem thy surging waves, and trace with pleasant wonder their singular andvaried outlines--now soaring abruptly upward, now carried in gentleundulations along the blue horizon. I behold the towering form of thatnoted landmark "_La montaigne qui trempe a l'eau_, " and the swellingcone on whose summit the soldier-traveller pitched his tent. I glideover the mirrored bosom of Pepin's lake, regarding with admiration itsturreted shores. I gaze with deeper interest upon that precipitousescarpment, the "Lover's Leap, " whose rocky wall has oft echoed back thejoyous chaunt of the light-hearted voyageur, and once a sadder strain--the death-song of Wanona--beautiful Wanona, who sacrificed life to love!

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Onward I glide, where the boundless prairies of the West impinge uponthy stream; and my eye wanders with delight over their fadeless green. 

I linger a moment to gaze upon the painted warrior spurring his wildsteed along thy banks--to gaze upon the Dacotah girls bathing theirlithe limbs in thy crystal wave--then on again past the "CorniceRocks"--the metalliferous shores of Galena and Dubuque--the aerial tombof the adventurous miner. 

I reach the point where the turbid Missouri rushes rudely upon thee, asthough he would force thee from thy onward course. Poised in my lightcanoe, I watch the struggle. Fierce but short it is, for thoutriumphest, and thy conquered rival is compelled to pay his goldentribute to thy flood that rolls majestically onward!

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Upon thy victorious wave I am borne still southward. I behold hugegreen mounds--the sole monuments of an ancient people--who once trod thyshores. Near at hand I look upon the dwellings of a far different race. I behold tall spires soaring to the sky; domes, and cupolas glitteringin the sun; palaces standing upon thy banks, and palaces floating uponthy wave. I behold a great city--a metropolis!

I linger not here. I long for the sunny South; and trusting myself oncemore to thy current I glide onward. 

I pass the sea-like estuary of the Ohio, and the embouchure of anotherof thy mightiest tributaries, the famed river of the plains. Howchanged the aspect of thy shores! I no longer look upon bold bluffs andbeetling cliffs. Thou hast broken from the hills that enchained thee, and now rollest far and free, cleaving a wide way through thine ownalluvion. Thy very banks are the creation of thine own fancy--the slimethou hast flung from thee in thy moments of wanton play--and thou canstbreak through their barriers at will. Forests again fringe thee--forests of giant trees--the spreading _platanus_, the tall tulip-tree, and the yellow-green cotton-wood rising in terraced groves from themargin of thy waters. Forests stand upon thy banks, and the wreck offorests is borne upon thy bubbling bosom!

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I pass thy last great affluent, whose crimson flood just tinges the hueof thy waters. Down thy delta I glide, amid scenes rendered classic bythe sufferings of De Soto--by the adventurous daring of Iberville and LaSalle. 

And here my soul reaches the acme of its admiration. Dead to beautymust be heart and eye that could behold thee here, in this thy southernland, without a thrill of sublimest emotion!

I gaze upon lovely landscapes ever changing, like scenes of enchantment, or the pictures of a panorama. They are the loveliest upon earth--forwhere are views to compare with thine? Not upon the Rhine, with itscastled rocks--not upon the shores of that ancient inland sea--not amongthe Isles of the Ind. No. In no part of the world are scenes likethese; nowhere is soft beauty blended so harmoniously with wildpicturesqueness. 

And yet not a mountain meets the eye--not even a hill--but the dark_cyprieres_, draped with the silvery _tillandsia_, form a background tothe picture with all the grandeur of the pyrogenous granite!

The forest no longer fringes thee here. It has long since fallen beforethe planter's axe; and the golden sugar-cane, the silvery rice, and thesnowy cotton-plant, flourish in its stead. Forest enough has been leftto adorn the picture. I behold vegetable forms of tropic aspect, withbroad shining foliage--the _Sabal_ palm, the anona, the water-lovingtupelo, the catalpa with its large trumpet flowers, the melting_liquidambar_, and the wax-leaved mangolia. Blending their foliage withthese fair _indigenes_ are an hundred lovely exotics--the orange, lemon, and fig; the Indian-lilac and tamarind; olives, myrtles, and bromelias;while the Babylonian willow contrasts its drooping fronds with the erectreeds of the giant cane, or the lance-like blades of the _yuccagloriosa_. 

Embowered amidst these beautiful forms I behold villas and mansions; ofgrand and varied aspect--varied as the races of men who dwell beneaththeir roofs. And varied are they; for the nations of the world dwelltogether upon thy banks--each having sent its tribute to adorn thee withthe emblems of a glorious and universal civilisation. Father of Waters, farewell!

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Though not born in this fair southern land, I have long lingered there;and I love it _even better than the land of my birth_. I have therespent the hours of bright youth, of adventurous manhood; and theretrospect of these hours is fraught with a thousand memories tingedwith a romance that can never die. There my young heart yielded to theinfluence of Love--a first and virgin love. No wonder the spot shouldbe to me the most hallowed on earth!

Reader! listen to the story of that love!

CHAPTER TWO. 

SIX MONTHS IN THE CRESCENT CITY. 

Like other striplings escaped from college, I was no longer happy _athome_. The yearning for travel was upon me; and I longed to makeacquaintance with that world, as yet only known to me through the mediumof books. 

My longing was soon to be gratified; and without a sigh I beheld thehills of my native land sink behind the black waves--not much caringwhether I should ever see them again. 

Though emerging from the walls of a classic college, I was far frombeing tinctured with classic sympathies. Ten years spent in ponderingover the wild hyperbole of Homer, the mechanical verse-work of Virgil, and the dry indelicacies of Horatius Flaccus, had failed to imbue mewith a perception of that classic beauty felt, or pretended to be felt, by the spectacled _savant_. My mind was not formed to live on theideal, or dream over the past. I delight rather in the real, thepositive, and the present. Don Quixotes may play the troubadour amongruined castles, and mincing misses cover the ground of the guide-books. For my part I have no belief in the romance of old-world life. In themodern Tell I behold a hireling, ready to barter his brawny limbs to theuse of whatever tyrant; and the picturesque Mazzaroni, upon closeracquaintance, dwindles down to the standard of a hen-roost thief. Amidthe crumbling walls of Athens and the ruins of Rome I encounterinhospitality and hunger. I am not a believer in the picturesqueness ofpoverty. I have no relish for the romance of rags. 

And yet it was a yearning for the romantic that called me from home. Ilonged for the poetic and picturesque, for I was just at that age whenthe mind is imbued with its strongest faith in their reality. Ha! mineis not yet disabused of this belief. I am older now, but the hour ofdisenchantment has not yet come upon me--nor ever will. There is aromance in life, that is no illusion. It lives not in the effete formsand childish ceremonies of the fashionable drawing-room--it has noillustration in the tinsel trappings and gaudy puerilities of a Court. Stars, garters, and titles are its antidotes; red cloth and plush theupas-trees of its existence. 

Its home is elsewhere, amid the grand and sublime scenes of Nature--though these are not necessary accompaniments. It is no more incidentalto field and forest, rock, river, and mountain, than to the well-troddenways of the trading-town. Its home is in human hearts--hearts thatthrob with high aspirations--bosoms that burn with the noble passions ofLiberty and Love!

My steps then were not directed towards classic shores, but to lands ofnewer and more vigorous life. Westward went I in search of romance. Ifound it in its most attractive form under the glowing skies ofLouisiana. 

In the month of January, 18--, I set foot upon the soil of theNew-World--upon a spot stained with English blood. The polite skipper, who had carried me across the Atlantic, landed me in his gig. I wascurious to examine the field of this decisive action; for at that periodof my life I had an inclination for martial affairs. But something morethan mere curiosity prompted me to visit the battle-ground of NewOrleans. I then held an opinion deemed heterodox--namely, that the_improvised_ soldier is under certain circumstances quite equal to theprofessional hireling, and that long military drill is not essential tovictory. The story of war, superficially studied, would seem toantagonise this theory, which conflicts also with the testimony of allmilitary men. But the testimony of mere military men on such a matteris without value. Who ever heard of a military man who did not desireto have his art considered as mythical as possible? Moreover, therulers of the world have spared no pains to imbue their people withfalse ideas upon this point. It is necessary to put forward some excusefor that terrible incubus upon the nations, the "standing army. "

My desire to view the battle-ground upon the banks of the Mississippihad chiefly reference to this question. The action itself had been oneof my strong arguments in favour of my belief; for upon this spot somesix thousand men--who had never heard the absurd command, "Eyesright!"--out-generalled, "whipped, " in fact nearly annihilated, awell-equipped and veteran army of twice their number!

Since standing upon that battle-ground I have carried a sword in morethan one field of action. What I then held only as a theory, I havesince proved as an experience. The "drill" is a delusion. The standingarmy a cheat. 

In another hour I was wandering through the streets of the CrescentCity, no longer thinking of military affairs. My reflections wereturned into a far different channel. The social life of the New-World, with all its freshness and vigour, was moving before my eyes, like apanorama; and despite of my assumption of the _nil admirari_, I couldnot help _wondering as I went_. 

And one of my earliest surprises--one that met me on the very thresholdof Transatlantic existence--was the discovery of my own utteruselessness. I could point to my desk and say, "There lie the proofs ofmy erudition--the highest prizes of my college class. " But of what usethey? The dry theories I had been taught had no application to thepurposes of real life. My logic was the prattle of the parrot. Myclassic lore lay upon my mind like lumber; and I was altogether about aswell prepared to struggle with life--to benefit either my fellow-man ormyself--as if I had graduated in Chinese mnemonics. 

And oh! ye pale professors, who drilled me in syntax and scansion, yewould deem me ungrateful indeed were I to give utterance to the contemptand indignation which I then felt for ye--then, when I looked back uponten years of wasted existence spent under your tutelage--then, when, after believing myself an educated man, the illusion vanished, and Iawoke to the knowledge that I _knew nothing_!

With some money in my purse, and very little knowledge in my head, Iwandered through the Streets of New Orleans, wondering as I went. 

Six months later, and I was traversing the same streets, with verylittle money in my purse, but with my stock of knowledge vastlyaugmented. During this six months I had acquired an experience of theworld more extensive, than in any six years of my previous life. 

I had paid somewhat dearly for this experience. My travelling fund hadmelted away in the alembic of cafes, theatres, masquerades, and"quadroon" balls. Some of it had been deposited in that bank (faro)which returns neither principal nor interest!

I was almost afraid to "take stock" of my affairs. At length with aneffort I did so; and found, after paying my hotel bills, a balance in myfavour of exactly twenty-five dollars! Twenty-five dollars to live uponuntil I could write home, and receive an answer--a period of threemonths at the least--for I am talking of a time antecedent to theintroduction of Atlantic steamers. 

For six months I had been sinning bravely. I was now all repentance, and desirous of making amends. I was even willing to engage in someemployment. But my cold classic training, that had not enabled me toprotect my purse, was not likely to aid me in replenishing it; and inall that busy city I could find no office that I was fitted to fill!

Friendless--dispirited--a little disgusted--not a little anxious inregard to my immediate future, I sauntered about the streets. Myacquaintances were becoming scarcer every day. I missed them from theirusual haunts--the haunts of pleasure. "Whither had they gone?"

There was no mystery in their disappearance. It was now mid-June. Theweather had become intensely hot, and every day the mercury mountedhigher upon the scale. It was already dancing in the neighbourhood of100 degrees of Fahrenheit. In a week or two might be expected thatannual but unwelcome visitor known by the soubriquet of "Yellow Jack, "whose presence is alike dreaded by young and old; and it was the terrorinspired by him that was driving the fashionable world of New Orleans, like birds of passage, to a northern clime. 

I am not more courageous than the rest of mankind. 

I had no inclination to make the acquaintance of this dreaded demon ofthe swamps; and it occurred to me, that I, too, had better get out ofhis way. To do this, it was only necessary to step on board asteamboat, and be carried to one of the up-river towns, beyond the reachof that tropical malaria in which the _vomito_ delights to dwell. 

Saint Louis was at this time the place of most attractive name; and Iresolved to go thither; though how I was to live there I could nottell--since my funds would just avail to land me on the spot. 

Upon reflection, it could scarce be "out of the frying-pan into thefire, " and my resolution to go to Saint Louis became fixed. So, packingup my _impedimenta_, I stepped on board the steamboat "Belle of theWest, " bound for the far "City of the Mounds. "

CHAPTER THREE. 

THE "BELLE OF THE WEST. "

I was on board at the advertised time; but punctuality on a Mississippisteamboat must not be expected; and I found myself too early, by acouple of hours at least. 

The time was not thrown away. I spent it to some profit in examiningthe peculiar craft in which I had embarked. I say, _peculiar_; for thesteamers employed upon the Mississippi and its tributary waters areunlike those of any other country--even unlike those in use in theAtlantic or Eastern States. 

They are strictly "river-boats, " and could not live in anything like arough sea; though the reckless owners of some of them have occasionallyrisked them along the coast from Mobile to Galveston, Texas!

The hull is built like that of a sea boat, but differs materially fromthe latter in depth of hold. So shallow is it, that there is but littlestowage-room allowed; and the surface of the main deck is but a fewinches above the water-line. Indeed, when the boat is heavily laden, the waves lip over the gunwales. Upon the deck is placed the machinery;and there rest the huge cast-iron boilers, and the grates or "furnaces, "necessarily large, because the propelling power is produced from logs ofwood. There, also, most of the freight is stowed, on account of thelight capacity of the hold; and on every part, not occupied by themachinery and boilers, may be seen piles of cotton-bales, hogsheads oftobacco, or bags of corn, rising to the height of many feet. This isthe freight of a down-river-boat. On the return trip, of course, thecommodities are of a different character, and consist of boxes of Yankeefurniture, farming implements, and "notions, " brought round by ship fromBoston; coffee in bags from the West Indies, rice, sugar, oranges, andother products of the tropical South. 

On the after-part of this deck is a space allotted to the humbler classof travellers known as "deck passengers. " These are never Americans. Some are labouring Irish--some poor German emigrants on their way to thefar North-West; the rest are negroes--free, or more generally slaves. 

I dismiss the hull by observing that there is a good reason why it isbuilt with so little depth of hold. It is to allow the boats to passthe shoal water in many parts of the river, and particularly during theseason of drought. For such purpose the lighter the draught, thegreater the advantage; and a Mississippi captain, boasting of thecapacity of his boat in this respect, declared, that all he wanted was_a heavy dew upon, the grass, to enable him to propel her across theprairies_!

If there is but little of a Mississippi steamboat under the water, thereverse is true of what may be seen above its surface. Fancy atwo-story house some two hundred feet in length, built of plank, andpainted to the whiteness of snow; fancy along the upper story a row ofgreen-latticed windows, or rather doors, thickly set, and opening outupon a narrow balcony; fancy a flattish or slightly rounded roof coveredwith tarred canvas, and in the centre a range of sky-lights like glassforcing-pits; fancy, towering above all, two enormous black cylinders ofsheet-iron, each ten feet in diameter, and nearly ten times as high, the"funnels" of the boat; a smaller cylinder to one side, the"'scape-pipe;" a tall flag-staff standing up from the extreme end of thebow, with the "star-spangled banner" flying from its peak;--fancy allthese, and you may form some idea of the characteristic features of asteamboat on the Mississippi. 

Enter the cabin, and for the first time you will be struck with thenovelty of the scene. You will there observe a splendid saloon, perhapsa hundred feet in length, richly carpeted and adorned throughout. Youwill note the elegance of the furniture, --costly chairs, sofas, tables, and lounges; you will note the walls, richly gilded and adorned withappropriate designs; the crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling;the hundred doors that lead to the "state-rooms" on each side, and theimmense folding-door of stained or ornamental glass, which shuts in thesacred precinct of the "ladies' saloon. " In short, you will note allaround you a style and luxuriance to which you, as a European traveller, have not been accustomed. You have only read of such a scene in someOriental tale--in Mary Montagu, or the "Arabian Nights. "

And yet all this magnificence is sometimes sadly at variance with thestyle of the company that occupies it--for this splendid saloon is asmuch the property of the coarse "rowdy" as of the refined gentleman. You are startled by the apparition of a rough horse-skin boot elevatedalong the edge of the shining mahogany; and a dash of brown nicotianjuice may have somewhat altered the pattern of the carpet! But thesethings are exceptional--more exceptional now than in the times of whichI write. 

Having satisfied myself with examining the interior structure of the"Belle of the West, " I sauntered out in front of the cabin. Here alarge open space, usually known as the "awning, " forms an excellentlounging-place for the male passengers. It is simply the continuationof the "cabin-deck, " projected forward and supported by pillars thatrest upon the main deck below. The roof, or "hurricane-deck, " alsocarried forward to the same point, and resting on slight wooden props, screens this part from sun or rain, and a low guard-rail running aroundit renders it safe. Being open in front and at both sides, it affordsthe best view; and having the advantage of a cool breeze, brought aboutby the motion of the boat, is usually a favourite resort. A number ofchairs are here placed to accommodate the passengers, and smoking ispermitted. 

He must take very little interest in the movements of human life, whocannot kill an hour by observing it upon the "Levee" of New Orleans; andhaving seated myself and lighted my cigar, I proceeded to spend an hourin that interesting occupation. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

THE RIVAL BOATS. 

The part of the "Levee" under my eyes was that known as the "SteamboatLanding. " Some twenty or thirty boats lay along a series of woodenwharves that projected slightly into the river. Some had just arrivedfrom up-river towns, and were discharging their freight and passengers, at this season a scanty list. Others, surrounded by a bustling swarm, were getting up steam; while still others appeared to be abandoned byboth officers and crew--who were no doubt at the time enjoyingthemselves in the brilliant cafes and restaurants. Occasionally mightbe seen a jauntily-dressed clerk, with blue cottonade trowsers, whitelinen coat, costly Panama hat, shirt with cambric ruffles, and diamondstuds. This stylish gentleman would appear for a few minutes by one ofthe deserted boats--perhaps transact a little business with some one--and then hurry off again to his more pleasant haunts in the city. 

There were two points upon the Levee where the bustle of active life wasmore especially observable. These were the spaces in front of two largeboats. One was that on which I had taken passage. The other, as Icould read upon her wheel-house, was the "Magnolia. " The latter wasalso upon the eve of starting, as I could tell by the movements of herpeople, by the red fires seen in her furnaces, and the hissing of steam, that every now and then screamed sharply from the direction of herboilers. 

On the Levee directly in front of her "drays" were depositing their lastloads, passengers were hurrying forward hat-box in hand, in fear theymight be too late; trunks, boxes, bags, and barrels were being rudelypushed or rolled over the staging-planks; the gaily-dressed clerks, armed with book and pencil, were checking them off; and everythingdenoted the intention of a speedy departure. A scene exactly similarwas being enacted in front of the "Belle of the West. "

I had not been regarding these movements very long, before I observedthat there was something unusual "in the wind. " The boats lay at nogreat distance from each other, and their crews, by a slight elevationof voice, could converse. This they were freely doing; and from someexpressions that reached me, coupled with a certain tone of defiance inwhich they were uttered, I could perceive that the "Magnolia" and the"Belle of the West" were "rival boats. " I soon gathered the furtherinformation, that they were about to start at the same time, and that a"race" was in contemplation!

I knew that this was no unusual occurrence among what are termed "crack"boats, and both the "Belle" and her rival came under that category. Both were of the first-class in size and magnificence of fitting; bothran in the same "trade, " that is, from New Orleans to Saint Louis; andboth were commanded by well-known and popular river "captains. " Theycould not be otherwise than rivals; and this feeling was shared in bythe crews of both, from captain to cabin-slave. 

As regards the owners and officers in such cases, there is a substantial_money motive_ at the bottom of this rivalry. The boat that "whips" inone of these races, wins also the future patronage of the public. The"fast boat" becomes the fashionable boat, and is ever afterwards sure ofa strong list of passengers at a high rate of fare--for there is thispeculiarity among Americans: many of them will spend their last dollarto be able to say at the end of his journey that he came upon thefashionable boat, just as in England you find many people desirous ofmaking it known that they travelled "first-class. " Snobbery is peculiarto no country--it appears to be universal. 

With regard to the contemplated trial of speed between the "Belle of theWest" and the "Magnolia, " the feeling of rivalry pervaded not only thecrews of both boats, but I soon discovered that the passengers wereaffected with it. Most of these seemed as eager for the race as anEnglish blackleg for the Derby. Some no doubt looked forward to thesport and excitement, but I soon perceived that the greater number werebetting upon the result!

"The Belle's boun' to win!" cried a gold-studded vulgar-looking fellowat my shoulder. "I'll go twenty dollars on the Belle. Will you bet, stranger?"

"No, " I replied, somewhat angrily, as the fellow had taken a liberty bylaying his hand on my shoulder. 

"Well, " retorted he, "jest as you like 'bout that;" and addressinghimself to some one else he continued, "the Belle's the conquering boatfor twenty dollars! Twenty dollars on the Belle!"

I confess I had no very pleasant reflections at that moment. It was myfirst trip upon an American steamboat, and my memory was brimful ofstories of "boiler burstings", "snaggings", "blowings up, " and boats onfire. I had heard that these races not infrequently resulted in one orother of the above-named catastrophes, and I had reason to know that myinformation was correct. 

Many of the passengers--the more sober and respectable ones--shared myfeelings; and some talked of appealing to the Captain not to allow therace. But they knew they were in the minority, and held their peace. 

I had made up my mind at least to ask the Captain "his intentions. " Iwas prompted rather by curiosity than by any other motive. 

I left my seat, therefore, and having crossed the staging, walked towardthe top of the wharf, where this gentleman was standing. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

A DESIRABLE FELLOW-PASSENGER. 

Before I had entered into conversation with the Captain, I saw abarouche approaching on the opposite side, apparently coming from theFrench quarter of the city. It was a handsome equipage, driven by awell-clad and evidently well-fed black, and as it drew near, I couldperceive that it was occupied by a young and elegantly-attired lady. 

I cannot say why, but I felt a presentiment, accompanied perhaps by asilent wish, that the occupant of the barouche was about to be afellow-passenger. It was not long before I learnt that such was herintention. 

The barouche drew up on the crest of the Levee, and I saw the ladydirecting some inquiry to a bystander, who immediately pointed to ourCaptain. The latter, perceiving that he was the object inquired after, stepped up to the side of the carriage, and bowed to the lady. I wasclose to the spot, and every word reached me. 

"Monsieur! are you the captain of the Belle of the West?"

The lady spoke in French, a smattering of which the Captain in hisintercourse with the Creoles had picked up. 

"Yes, madame, " was the reply. 

"I wish to take passage with you. "

"I shall be most happy to accommodate you, madame. There is still onestate-room disengaged, I believe, Mr Shirley?"

Here the Captain appealed to the clerk, in order to ascertain if suchwas the case. 

"Never mind!" said the lady, interrupting him, "for the matter of astate-room it is of no importance! You will reach my plantation beforemidnight, and therefore I shall not require to sleep aboard. "

The phrase, "my plantation, " evidently had an effect upon the Captain. Naturally not a rude man, it seemed to render him still more attentiveand polite. The proprietor of a Louisiana plantation is a somebody notto be treated with nonchalance; but, when that proprietor chances to bea young and charming lady, who could be otherwise than amiable? NotCaptain B. , commander of the "Belle of the West!" The very name of hisboat negatived the presumption!

Smiling blandly, he inquired where he was to land his fair charge. 

"At Bringiers, " replied the lady. "My residence is a little below, butour landing is not a good one; besides, there is some freight which itwould be better to put ashore at Bringiers. "

Here the occupant of the barouche pointed to a train of drays, loadedwith barrels and boxes, that had just driven up, and halted in the rearof the carriage. 

The sight of the freight had a still further pleasant effect on theCaptain, who was himself _part owner_ of his boat. He became profuse inoffers of service, and expressed his willingness to accommodate his newpassenger in every way she might desire. 

"Monsieur Capitaine, " continued this handsome lady, still remainingseated in her carriage, and speaking in a tone of good-naturedseriousness, "I must make one condition with you. "

"Please to name it, madame. "

"Well then! It is reported that your boat is likely to have a race withsome other one. If that be so, I cannot become your passenger. " TheCaptain looked somewhat disconcerted. "The fact is, " continued she, "Ihad a narrow escape once before, and I am determined to run no such riskin future. "

"Madame--, " stammered the Captain--then hesitating--

"Oh, then!" interrupted the lady, "if you cannot give me the assurancethat you will not race, I must wait for some other boat. "

The Captain hung his head for some seconds. He was evidently reflectingupon his answer. To be thus denied the anticipated excitement andpleasure of the race--the victory which he confidently expected, and itsgrand consequences; to appear, as it were, afraid of trying the speed ofhis boat; afraid that she would be beaten; would give his rival a largeopportunity for future bragging, and would place himself in no enviablelight in the eyes of his crew and passengers--all of whom had alreadymade up their minds for a race. On the other hand, to refuse therequest of the lady--not very unreasonable when properly viewed--andstill more reasonable when it was considered that that lady was theproprietress of several dray-loads of freight, and when still furtherconsidered that that lady was a rich _plantress_ of the "French coast, "and might see fit next fall to send several hundred casks of sugar andas many hogsheads of tobacco down on his (the Captain's) boat;--theseconsiderations, I say, made the request quite reasonable. And so wesuppose, upon reflection, it must have appeared to Captain B--, forafter a little hesitation he granted it. Not with the best grace, however. It evidently cost him a struggle; but interest prevailed, andhe granted it. 

"I accept your conditions, madame. The boat shall _not_ run. I giveyou my promise to that effect. "

"_Assez_! thanks! Monsieur le Capitaine; I am greatly obliged to you. If you will be so good as to have my freight taken aboard. The carriagegoes along. This gentleman is my steward. Here, Antoine! He will lookto everything. And now pray, Capitaine, when do you contemplatestarting?"

"In fifteen minutes, madame, at the latest. "

"Are you sure of that, mon Capitaine?" she inquired, with a significantlaugh, which told she was no stranger to the want of punctuality of theboats. 

"Quite sure, madame, " replied the Captain; "you may depend on the time. "

"Ah! then, I shall go aboard at once!" And, so saying, she lightlytripped down the steps of the barouche, and giving her arm to theCaptain, who had gallantly proffered himself, was conducted to theladies' cabin, and of course for a time lost to the admiring eyes, notonly of myself, but of a goodly number of others who had already beenattracted to gaze upon this beautiful apparition. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

ANTOINE THE STEWARD. 

I had been very much struck by the appearance of this dame. Not so muchon account of her physical beauty--though that was of a rare kind--as bythe air that characterised her. I should feel a difficulty indescribing this, which consisted in a certain _braverie_ that bespokecourage and self-possession. There was no coarseness of manner--onlythe levity of a heart gay as summer, and light as gossamer, but capable, when occasion required, of exhibiting a wonderful boldness and strength. She was a woman that would be termed beautiful in any country; but withher beauty there was combined elegance, both in dress and manner, thattold you at once she was a lady accustomed to society and the world. And this, although still young--she certainly could not have been muchover twenty. Louisiana has a precocious climate, however; and a Creoleof twenty will count for an Englishwoman of ten years older. 

Was she married? I could not bring myself to think so; besides theexpressions, "my plantation" and "my steward, " would scarcely have beenused by a lady who had "somebody" at home, unless, indeed, that somebodywere held in very low estimation--in short, considered a "nobody. " Awidow she might be--a very young widow--but even that did not seem to meprobable. She had not the "cut" of a widow in my eyes, and there wasnot the semblance of a "weed" either about her dress or her looks. TheCaptain had styled her _Madame_, but he was evidently unacquainted withher, and also with the French idiom. In a doubtful case such as this, it should have been "Mademoiselle. "

Inexperienced as I was at the time--"green, " as the Americans have it--Iwas not without some curiosity in regard to women, especially when thesechanced to be beautiful. My curiosity in the present case had beenstimulated by several circumstances. First, by the attractiveloveliness of the lady herself; second, by the style of her conversationand the facts it had revealed; third, by the circumstance that the ladywas, or I fancied her to be, a "Creole. "

I had as yet had but little intercourse with people of this peculiarrace, and was somewhat curious to know more about them. I had foundthem by no means ready to open their doors to the Saxon stranger--especially the old "Creole _noblesse_, " who even to this hour regardtheir Anglo-American fellow-citizens somewhat in the light of invadersand usurpers! This feeling was at one time deeply rooted. With time, however, it is dying out. 

A fourth spur to my curiosity was found in the fact, that the lady inpassing had eyed me with a glance of more than ordinary inquisitiveness. Do not be too hasty in blaming me for this declaration. Hear me first. I did not for a moment fancy that that glance was one of admiration. Ihad no such thoughts. I was too young at the time to flatter myselfwith such fancies. Besides, at that precise moment I was far from being"in my zenith. " With scarce five dollars in my purse, I felt ratherforlorn; and how could I have fancied that a brilliant beauty such asshe--a star of first magnitude--a rich proprietress--the owner of aplantation, a steward, and a host of slaves--would condescend to lookadmiringly on such a friendless wretch as I?

In truth, I did not flatter myself with such thoughts. I supposed thatit was simple curiosity on her part--and no more. She saw that I wasnot of her own race. My complexion--the colour of my eyes--the cut ofmy garments--perhaps something _gauche_ in my manner--told her I was astranger to the soil, and that had excited her interest for a passingmoment. A mere ethnological reflection--nothing more. 

The act, however, had helped to pique my curiosity; and I felt desirousof knowing at least the name of this distinguished creature. 

The "steward, " thought I, may serve my purpose, and I turned towardsthat individual. 

He was a tall, grey-haired, lathy, old Frenchman, well-dressed, andsufficiently respectable-looking to have passed for the lady's father. His aspect, too, was quite venerable, giving you the idea of longservice and a very old family. 

I saw, as I approached him, that my chances were but indifferent. Ifound him as "close as a clam. " Our conversation was very brief; hisanswers laconic. 

"Monsieur, may I ask who is your mistress?"

"A lady. "

"True: any one may tell that who has the good fortune of looking at her. It was her name I asked for. "

"It does not concern you to know it. "

"Not if it be of so much importance to keep it a secret!"

"_Sacr-r-re_!"

This exclamation, muttered, rather than spoken aloud, ended thedialogue; and the old fellow turned away on giving expression to it--nodoubt cursing me in his heart as a meddling Yankee. 

I applied myself to the sable Jehu of the barouche, but with no bettersuccess. He was getting his horses aboard, and not liking to givedirect answers to my questions, he "dodged" them by dodging around hishorses, and appearing to be very busy on the offside. Even the _name_ Iwas unable to get out of him, and I also gave _him_ up in despair. 

The name, however, was furnished me shortly after from an unexpectedsource. I had returned to the boat, and had seated myself once moreunder the awning, watching the boatmen, with rolled-up red shirts, usetheir brawny arms in getting their freight aboard. I saw it was thesame which had been delivered from the drays--the property of the lady. It consisted, for the most part, of barrels of pork and flour, with aquantity of dried hams, and some bags of coffee. 

"Provisions for her large establishment, " soliloquised I. 

Just then some packages of a different character were pushed upon thestaging. These were leathern trunks, travelling bags, rosewood cases, bonnet-boxes, and the like. 

"Ha! her personal luggage, " I again reflected, and continued to puff mycigar. Regarding the transfer of the trunks, my eye was suddenlyattracted to some lettering that appeared upon one of the packages--aleathern portmanteau. I sprang from my seat, and as the article wascarried up the gangway stair I met it halfway. I glanced my eye overthe lettering, and read--

"_Mademoiselle Eugenie Besancon_. "

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

THE STARTING. 

The last bell rings--the "can't-get-away" folks rush ashore--thestaging-plank is drawn in--some heedless wight has to jump for it--thecable is pulled aboard and coiled--the engineer's bell tinkles--thegreat wheels revolve, lashing the brown water into foam--the steam"whistles" and screams at the boilers, and booms from the 'scape-pipe inregular repetitions--neighbouring boats are pressed out of theirplaces--their planks cringe and crackle--guards are broken, or theslight timbers of wheel-houses, causing a cross-fire of curses betweenthe crews--and after some minutes of this pandemoniac confusion, thehuge craft clears herself, and rides out upon the broad bosom of theriver. 

She heads up-stream; a few strokes of the revolving paddles and thecurrent is mastered; and the noble boat yielding to the mightypropulsion, cleaves her liquid way, "walking the water like a thing oflife!"

Perchance the boom of a cannon announces her departure; perchance it isanimated by the harmonious swell of brazen instruments; or still moreappropriate, some old "boatman's song, " with its lively chorus, is heardissuing from the rude, though not unmusical throats of the "hands"below. 

Lafayette and Carrolton are soon passed; the humbler roofs of stores anddwellings sink out of sight; and the noble dome of Saint Charles, thespires of churches, and the towers of the great cathedral, are all ofthe Crescent City that remain above the horizon. These, at length, godown; and the "floating palace" moves on in stately grandeur between thepicturesque shores of the Mississippi. 

I have said "picturesque. " This word does not satisfy me, nor can Ithink of one that will delineate my idea. I must make use of a phrase, "picturesquely beautiful, " to express my admiration of the scenery ofthose shores. I have no hesitation in pronouncing it the finest in theworld. 

I am not gazing upon it with a mere cold eye-glance. I cannot separatescenery from its associations--not its associations of the past, butwith the present. I look upon the ruined castles of the Rhine, andtheir story impresses me with a feeling of disgust for what _has been_. I look upon its modern homes and their dwellers; I am equally filledwith disgust for what _is_. In the Bay of Naples I experience a similarfeeling, and roaming "around" the lordly parks of England, I see themthrough an enclosure of wretchedness and rags, till their lovelinessseems an illusion!

Here alone, upon the banks of this majestic river, do I behold wealthwidely diffused, intelligence broadcast, and comfort for all. Here, inalmost every house, do I meet the refined taste of high civilisation--the hospitality of generous hearts combined with the power to dispenseit. Here can I converse with men by thousands, whose souls are free--not politically alone, but free from vulgar error and fanaticsuperstition; here, in short, have I witnessed, not the perfectedness--for that belongs to a far future time--but the most advanced stage ofcivilisation yet reached upon the globe. 

A dark shadow crosses my eye-glance, and my heart is stung with suddenpain. It is the shadow of a human being with a black skin. _He is aslave_!

For a moment or two the scene looks black! What is there to admirehere--in these fields of golden sugar-cane, of waving maize, ofsnow-white cotton? What to admire in those grand mansions, with theirorangeries, their flowery gardens, their drooping shade-trees, and theirsoft arbours? All this is but the sweat of the slave!

For a while I behold without admiring. The scene has lost its _couleurde rose_; and a gloomy wilderness is before me! I reflect. Slowly andgradually the cloud passes away, and the brightness returns. I reflectand compare. 

True, he with the black skin is a slave--but not a _voluntary_ slave. That is a difference in his favour at least. 

In other lands--mine own among them--I see around me slaves as well, andfar more numerous. Not the slaves of an individual, but of anassociation of individuals--a class--an oligarchy. Not slaves of thecorvee--serfs of the feud--but victims of its modern representative thetax, which is simply its commutation, and equally baneful in itseffects. 

On my soul, I hold that the slavery of the Louisiana black is lessdegrading than that of the white pleb of England. The poor, woolly-headed helot is the victim of conquest, and may claim to placehimself in the honourable category of a prisoner of war. He has notwilled his own bondage; while you, my grocer, and butcher, and baker--ay, and you, my fine city merchant, who fondly fancy yourself afreeman--ye are voluntary in your serfdom; ye are loyal to a politicaljuggle that annually robs ye of half your year's industry; that annuallyrequires some hundred thousands of your class to be sloughed off intoexile, lest your whole body should gangrene and die. And all thiswithout even a protest. Nay, worse--you are ever ready to cry "crucify"to him who would attempt to counteract this condition--ever ready toglorify the man and the motion that would fix another rivet in yourfetters!

Even while I write, the man who loves you least; he who for fortyyears--for all his life, in fact--has been your systematic enemy, is themost popular of your rulers! Even while I write the Roman wheel isrevolving before your eyes, squibs and crackers sound sweetly in yourears, and you are screaming forth your rejoicings over the acts of aconvention that had for its sole object the strengthening of yourchains! But a short twelve months ago, you were just as enthusiasticfor a war that was equally antagonistic to your interests, equallyhostile to the liberties of your kind! Miserable delusion!

I repeat what I have uttered with a feeling of solemnity. On my soul, Ihold that the slavery of the Louisiana black is less degrading than thatof the white pleb of England. 

True, this black man is a _slave_, and there are three millions of hisrace in the same condition. Painful thought! but less painful whenaccompanied by the reflection that the same broad land is trodden by_twenty millions of free and sovereign men_. Three millions of slavesto twenty millions of masters! In mine own land the proportion isexactly reversed!

The truth may be obscure. For all that, I dare say there are some whowill understand it. 

Ah! how pleasant to turn from these heart-stirring but painful thoughtsto the calmer contemplation of themes furnished by science and nature. How sweet was it to study the many novel forms that presented themselvesto my eyes on the shores of that magnificent stream! There is apleasaunce even in the retrospect; and as I now sit dreaming over themfar away--perhaps never more to behold them with mortal eye--I amconsoled by a fond and faithful memory, whose magic power enables me torecall them before the eye of my mind in all their vivid colouring ofgreen and gold!

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

THE "COAST" OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 

As soon as we had fairly started, I ascended to the "hurricane-deck, " inorder to obtain a better view of the scenery through which we werepassing. In this place I was alone; for the silent pilot, boxed up inhis little tower of glass, could hardly be called a companion. 

I make the following observations:

The breadth of the Mississippi river has been much exaggerated. It ishere about half a mile wide. Sometimes more, occasionally less. (Thisaverage width it preserves for more than a thousand miles from itsmouth. ) Its waters run at the rate of three or four miles to the hour, and are of a yellowish cast, with a slight tincture of "red. " Theyellow colour it derives from the Missouri, while the deeper tint isobtained by the influx of the "Red. "

Driftwood floats thickly upon its surface; here in single logs, there inraft-like clusters. To run a boat against one of these is attended withdanger, and the pilot avoids them. Sometimes one swimming below thesurface escapes his eye; and then a heavy bumping against the bowsshakes the boat, and startles the equanimity of the less experiencedpassengers. The "snag" is most dreaded. That is a dead tree with heavyroots still adhering. These, from their weight, have settled upon thebottom, and the _debris_ gathering around holds them firmly imbedded. The lighter top, riven of its branches, rises towards the surface; butthe pressure of the current prevents it from attaining to theperpendicular, and it is held in a slanting position. When its toprises above the water, the danger is but trifling--unless in a very darknight--it is when the top is hidden a foot or two below the surface thatthe snag is feared. Then a boat running upon it up-stream, is lost to acertainty. The roots firmly imbedded in the bottom mud, prevent thepile from yielding; and the top, usually a spiky one, penetrates the bowtimbers of the boat, sinking her almost instantly. A boat properly"snagged" will go down in a few minutes. 

The "sawyer" is a log fixed in the water similarly to the snag, but keptbobbing up and down by the current, thus suggesting the idea of a sawyerengaged at his work--hence the name. A boat getting aground upon asunken log _crosswise_, is sometimes snagged upon its branches, andsometimes broken into two pieces by the pressure of her own weight. 

Among the drift, I notice odd matters that interest me. Stalks ofsugar-cane that have been crushed in the press-mill (a hundred milesfarther up I should not meet these), leaves and stems of the maizeplant, corn-cobs, pieces of broken gourd-shell, tufts of raw cotton, split fence-rails, now and then the carcase of some animal, with abuzzard or black vulture (_Cathartes aura_ and _atratus_) perched uponit, or hovering above. 

I am within the geographical range of the alligator but here the greatSaurian is seldom seen. He prefers the more sluggish _bayous_, or thestreams whose shores are still wild. In the rapid current of theMississippi, and along its well-cultivated banks, he is but rarelyobserved by the passing traveller. 

Alternately the boat approaches both shores of the river ("coasts" theyare called). The land is an alluvion of no very ancient formation. Itis a mere strip of _terra firma_, varying in breadth from a few hundredyards to several miles, and gradually declining from the banks, so thatthe river is actually running along the top of a ridge! Beyond thisstrip commences the "Swamp, " a tract that is annually inundated, andconsists of a series of lagoons and marshes covered with coarse grassand reeds. This extends in some places for a score of miles, or evenfarther--a complete wilderness of morass. Some portions of this--wherethe inundation is only annual--are covered with dark and almostimpenetrable forests. Between the cultivated strip on the immediatebank of the river, and the "Swamp" in the rear, runs a belt of thisforest, which forms a kind of background to the picture, answering tothe mountain-ranges in other lands. It is a high, dark forest, principally composed of cypress-trees (_Cupressus disticka_). But thereare other kinds peculiar to this soil, such as the sweet-gum(_Liquidambar styraciflua_), the live-oak (_Quercus vivens_), the tupelo(_Nyssa aquatica_), the water-locust (_Gleditschia aquatica_), thecotton-wood (_Populus angulata_), with _carya, celtis_, and variousspecies of _acer, cornus, juglans, magnolia_, and oaks. Here anunderwood of palmettoes (_Sabal_ palms), _smilax, llianes_, and variousspecies of _vitis_; there thick brakes of cane (_Arundo gigantea_), growamong the trees; while from their branches is suspended in long festoonsthat singular parasite, the "Spanish moss" (_Tillandsia usneoides_), imparting a sombre character to the forest. 

Between this dank forest and the river-banks lie the cultivated fields. The river current is often several feet above their level; but they areprotected by the "Levee, " an artificial embankment which has been formedon both sides of the river, to a distance of several hundred miles fromits mouth. 

In these fields I observe the culture of the sugar-cane, of therice-plant, of tobacco and cotton, of indigo and maize. I see the"gangs" of black slaves at their work, in their cotton dresses ofstriped and gaudy colours, in which sky-blue predominates. I see hugewaggons drawn by mules or oxen returning from the cane-fields, or slowlytoiling along the banks. I see the light-bodied Creole, in "cottonade"jacket and trousers of bright blue, mounted upon his small Spanishhorse, and galloping along the Levee road. I see the grand mansion ofthe planter, with its orange-groves and gardens, its green Venetians, cool verandahs, and pretty palings. I see the huge sugar-house, ortobacco-shed, or cotton "pickery;" and there, too, are the neat"cabins, " clustering together or running in a row, like thebathing-boxes at a fashionable watering-place. 

Now we are passing a plantation where they are making merry--a _fetechampetre_. Many horses stand under the trees, "hitched" in the shadewith saddles on, not a few of which are "ladies' saddles. " In theverandah, the lawn, and through the orange shrubbery, may be seen movingabout gentlemen and ladies richly attired. Music is heard, and there isdancing in the open air. One cannot help envying these happy Creolesthe enjoyment of their Arcadian life. 

Scenes varied and lovely were passing panorama-like before my eyes. Lost in admiration of them, I had for the moment forgotten _EugenieBesancon_. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

EUGENIE BESANCON. 

No, Eugenie Besancon was not forgotten. Every now and then hersylph-like form flitted before my imagination, and I could not helpassociating it with the scenery through which we were passing, andamidst which, no doubt, she was born and nurtured--its fair _indigene_. The glimpse of the _fete champetre_, where several Creole-like girlswere conspicuous, brought her more forcibly into my thoughts; and, descending from the hurricane-deck, I entered the cabin with somecuriosity, once more to look upon this interesting lady. 

For some time I dreaded disappointment. The great glass folding-door ofthe ladies' cabin was closed; and although there were several ladiesoutside in the main saloon, the Creole was not among the number. Theladies' cabin, which occupies the after-part of the boat, is a sacredprecinct, into which bachelors are admitted only when they enjoy theprivilege of having a friend inside--then only at certain hours. 

I was not one of the privileged. Out of the hundred and odd passengerson board, I did not know a soul, male or female; and I had the happinessor misfortune of being equally unknown to them. Under thesecircumstances my entry into the ladies' cabin would have been deemed anintrusion; and I sat down in the main saloon, and occupied myself instudying the physiognomy and noting the movements of myfellow-passengers. 

They were a mixed throng. Some were wealthy merchants, bankers, moneyor commission brokers from New Orleans, with their wives and daughters, on their annual migration to the north, to escape from the yellow fever, and indulge in the more pleasant epidemic of life at a fashionablewatering-place. There were corn and cotton-planters from theup-country, on their return home, and storekeepers from the up-rivertowns; boatmen who, in jean trousers and red flannel shirts, had pusheda "flat" two thousand miles down stream, and who were now making theback trip in shining broadcloth and snow-white linen. What "lions"would these be on getting back to their homes about the sources of SaltRiver, the Cumberland, the Licking, or the Miami! There were Creoles, too--old wine-merchants of the French quarter--and their families; themen distinguished by a superabundance of ruffles, plaited pantaloons, shining jewellery, and light-coloured cloth boots. 

There was a sprinkling of jauntily-dressed clerks, privileged to leaveNew Orleans in the dull season; and there were some still morerichly-dressed gentlemen, with the finest of cloth in their coats, thewhitest of linen and raffles, the brightest of diamonds in their studs, and the most massive of finger-rings. These last were "sportsmen. "They had already fathered around a table in the "smoking-saloon, " andwere fingering a span new pack of cards--the implements of theirpeculiar industry. 

Among these I observed the fellow who had so loudly challenged me to betupon the boat-race. He had passed me several times, regarding me with aglance that appeared anything but friendly. 

Our close friend the steward was seated in the saloon. You must notsuppose that his holding the office of steward, or overseer, disentitledhim to the privileges of the first-class cabin. There is no "secondsaloon" on board an American steamer. Such a distinction is not knownso far west as the Mississippi. 

The overseers of plantations are usually men of rude and brutaldispositions. The very nature of their calling makes them so. ThisFrenchman, however, seemed to be an exception. He appeared a mostrespectable old gentleman. I rather liked his looks, and began to feelquite an interest in him, though he by no means appeared to reciprocatethe feeling. 

Some one complained of the mosquitoes, and suggested the opening of thefolding-doors of the ladies' cabin. This suggestion was backed up byseveral others--ladies and gentlemen. The clerk of the boat is the mancharged with such responsibilities. He was at length appealed to. Theappeal was reasonable--it was successful; and the great gates of thesteamboat Paradise were thrown open. The result was a current of airwhich swept through the long saloon from stem to stern; and in less thanfive minutes not a mosquito remained on board, except such as hadescaped the blast by taking shelter in the state-rooms. This wascertainly a great relief. 

The folding-doors were permitted to remain open--an arrangement quitesatisfactory to all, but particularly to a number of the gaily-dressedyoung clerks, who could now command a full view of the interior of theharem. Several of them might be observed taking advantage of the newarrangement--not staring broadly, as that would be accounted rude andnoted against them. They only appealed to the sacred shrine byside-glances, or over books which they pretended to read, or pacing upand down approached the favoured limit, glancing in at intervals, as ifundesignedly. Some appeared to have acquaintances inside, though notupon terms of sufficient familiarity to give them the right of entry. Others were in hopes of making acquaintances, should opportunity offer. I could detect expressive looks, and occasionally a smile that seemed todenote a mutual intelligence. Many a pleasant thought is conveyedwithout words. The tongue is often a sad disenchanter. I have known itto spoil many a nice love-plot silently conceived, and almost ripe forbeing carried out. 

I was amused at this speechless pantomime, and sat for some minutesregarding it. My eyes wandered at intervals towards the interior of theladies' saloon, guided thither partly by a common curiosity. I have anobservant habit. Anything new interests me, and this cabin-life on anAmerican steamboat was entirely new, and not a little _piquante_. Idesired to study it. Perhaps I was somewhat interested in another way--desirous of having one more look at the young Creole, Besancon. 

My desire, then, was gratified. I saw the lady at last. She had comeout of her state-room, and was moving around the saloon, graceful andgay. She was now unbonneted, and her rich golden tresses were arranged_a la Chinoise_--a Creole fashion as well. The thick masses, coiledinto a large "club" at the back of the head, denoted the luxuriance ofher hair: and the style of coiffure, displaying her noble forehead andfinely-formed neck, became her well. Fair hair with blonde complexion, although rare among the Creoles, is sometimes met with. Dark hair witha brunette skin is the rule, to which Eugenie Besancon was a remarkableexception. 

Her features expressed gaiety, approaching to volatility; yet one couldnot help feeling that there was firmness of character _en perdu_. Herfigure was beyond criticism; and the face, if not strikingly beautifulwas one that you could not look upon without emotions of pleasure. 

She appeared to know some of her fellow-passengers--at least she wasconversing with them in a style of easy freedom. Women, however, rarelyexhibit embarrassment among themselves; women of French race, never. 

One thing I observed--her cabin companions appeared to regard her withdeference. Perhaps they had already learnt that the handsome carriageand horses belonged to her. That was very, very likely!

I continued to gaze upon this interesting lady. Girl I cannot call her, for although young enough, she had the air of a woman--a woman ofexperience. She appeared quite at ease; seemed mistress of herself, andindeed of everything else. 

"What an air of _insouciance_, " thought I. "That woman is not in love!"

I cannot tell why I should have made these reflections, or why thethought pleased me; but certainly it did. Why? She was nothing to me--she was far above me. I dared scarce look upon her. I regarded her assome superior being, and with timid stolen glances, as I would regardbeauty in a church. Ho! she was nothing to me. In another hour itwould be night, and she was to land in the night; I should never see heragain! I should think of her though for an hour or two, perhaps for aday--the longer that was now foolish enough to sit gazing upon her! Iwas weaving a net for myself--a little agony that might last for sometime after she was gone. 

I had formed a resolution to withdraw from the fascinating influence, and return to my meditation on the hurricane-deck. A last look at thefair Creole, and I should depart. 

Just at that moment she flung herself into a chair. 

It was of the kind known as a "rocking-chair, " and its motions displayedthe fine proportion and outlines of her form. As she now sat she wasfacing the door, and her eye for the first time rested upon me. ByHeavens! she was gazing on me just as before! What meant that strangeglance? those burning eyes?

Stedfast and fixed, they remained bent upon mine--and mine trembled toanswer them!

Thus for some moments her eyes dwelt upon me, without motion or changeof direction. I was too young at that time to understand the expressionthat was in them. I could translate such an one afterwards, but notthen. 

At length she rose from her seat with an air of uneasiness, as ifdispleased either with herself or me; and, turning away her head, sheopened the latticed door and passed into her state-room. 

Had I done anything to give offence? No! not by word, nor look, norgesture. I had not spoken--I had not moved, and my timid glance couldnot have been construed into one of rudeness. 

I was somewhat bewildered by the conduct of Mademoiselle Besancon; and, in the full belief that I should never see her again, I hurried awayfrom the saloon, and once more climbed up to the hurricane-deck. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

A NEW MODE OF RAISING THE STEAM. 

It was near sunset--the fiery disc was going down behind the darkoutline of cypress forest that belted the western horizon, and a yellowlight fell upon the river. Promenading back and forward upon thecanvas-covered roof, I was gazing upon the scene, wrapt in admiration ofits glowing beauty. 

My reverie was interrupted. On looking down the river I saw that alarge boat was in our wake, and coming rapidly after us. The volume ofsmoke rolling up out of her tall funnels, and the red glowing of herfires, showed that she was moving under a full head of steam. Her size, as well as the loud reports of her 'scape-pipe, told that she was a boatof the first-class. She was the "Magnolia. " She was moving with greatvelocity, and I had not watched her long, before I perceived that shewas fast gaining upon us. 

At this moment my ears were assailed by a variety of sounds coming frombelow. Loud voices in earnest tones, the stamping and pattering offeet, as of men rushing over the wooden decks and along the guard-ways. The voices of women, too, were mingled in the medley. 

I surmised what all this meant. The approach of the rival boat was thecause of the excitement. 

Up to this time the boat-race seemed to have been nearly forgotten. Ithad got abroad among both "hands" and passengers that the Captain didnot intend to "run;" and although this backing-out had been loudlycensured at first, the feeling of disappointment had partially subsided. The crew had been busy at their work of stowage--the firemen with theirhuge billets of cord-wood--the gamblers with their cards--and thepassengers, in general, with their portmanteaus, or the journal of theday. The other boat not starting at the same time, had been out ofsight until now, and the feeling of rivalry almost "out of mind. "

The appearance of the rival produced a sudden change. The gamblersflung down the half-dealt pack, in hopes of having something moreexciting to bet upon; the readers hastily closed their books, and tossedaside their newspapers; the rummagers of trunks banged down the lids;the fair occupants of rocking-chairs suddenly sprang to their feet; andall ran out of the cabins, and pressed towards the after-part of theboat. 

My position on the hurricane-deck was the best possible for a good viewof the rival boat, and I was soon joined by a number of myfellow-passengers. I wished, however, to witness the scene on thecabin-deck, and went below. 

On reaching the main saloon, I found it quite forsaken. All thepassengers, both male and female, had gone out upon the guard-way; andleaning against the guards were anxiously watching the approach of theMagnolia. 

I found the Captain under the front-cabin awning. He was surrounded bya crowd of gentlemen-passengers, all of whom appeared to be in a highstate of excitement. One after the other was proffering speech to him. They were urging him to "raise the steam. "

The Captain, evidently wishing to escape from these importunities, keptpassing from place to place. It was to no purpose. Wherever he went hewas met or followed by a knot of individuals, all with the same requestin their mouths--some even begging him for "God's sake" not to let theMagnolia pass him!

"Wal, Cap!" cried one, "if the Belle don't run, I guess she'll never beheerd of on these waters agin, she won't. "

"You're right!" added another. "For my part the next trip I make I'lltry the Magnolia. "

"She's a fast boat that 'ere Magnolia!" remarked a third. 

"She ain't anything else, " rejoined the first speaker: "she's got hersteam on a few, I reckon. "

I walked out on the guard-way in the direction of the ladies' cabin. The inmates of the latter were clustered along the guards, and seeminglyas much interested in the boat-race as the men. I could hear several ofthem expressing their wishes aloud that the boats would run. All ideaof risk or fear of consequences had departed; and I believe that if thecompany had been "polled" at the moment in favour of the race, therewould not have been three dissentient voices. I confess that I, myself, would have voted for running, --I had caught the infection, and no longerthought of "snags", "sawyers, " or bursting boilers. 

As the Magnolia drew near the excitement increased. It was evident thatin a few minutes more she would be alongside, and then pass us. Theidea was unsupportable to some of the passengers; and loud words couldbe heard, now and then interspersed with an angry oath. The poorCaptain had to bear all this--for it was known that the rest of theofficers were well disposed for a trial of speed. It was the Captainonly who "showed the white feather. "

The Magnolia was close in our wake; her head bearing a little to oneside. She was evidently preparing to pass us!

Her officers and crew were moving actively about; both pilots were seenabove at the wheel-house; the firemen were all at work upon the deck;the furnace-doors were glowing red-hot; and the bright blaze stoodseveral feet above the tops of her tall funnels! One might have fanciedshe was on fire!

"They are burning bacon hams!" shouted a voice. 

"They are by--!" exclaimed another. "See, yonder's a pile of them infront of the furnace!"

I turned my eyes in that direction. It was quite true. Apyramidal-shaped mass of dark-brown objects lay upon the deck in frontof the fires. Their size, shape, and colour told what they were--driedhams of bacon. The firemen were seen taking them from the pile, andthrusting them one after another up the red tunnels of the furnace!

The Magnolia was still gaining upon us. Already her head was even withthe wheel-house of the Belle. On the latter boat the excitementincreased, and the noise along with it. An occasional taunt from thepassengers of the rival boat added fuel to the flame; and the Captainwas once more abjured to run. Men almost threatened him with violence!

The Magnolia continued to advance. She was now head for head with us. Another minute passed--a minute of deep silence--the crews andpassengers of both boats watched their progress with hearts too full forutterance. Another minute, and the Magnolia had shot ahead!

A triumphant cheer rang along her decks, mingled with taunting shoutsand expressions of insult. 

"Throw us a line, and we'll tow you!" cried one. 

"Whar's yer old ark now?" shouted another. 

"Hurraw for the Magnolia! Three groans for the Belle of the West!Three groans for the old dugout!" vociferated a third, amidst jeers andshouts of laughter. 

I can hardly describe the mortification felt by those on board theBelle. It was not confined to the officers and crew. The passengers, one and all, seemed to partake of the feeling. I shared it myself, morethan I could have believed to be possible. 

One dislikes to be among the conquered, even on any terms ofassociation. Besides, one involuntarily catches the impulse of themoment. The sentiment that surrounds you--perhaps by physical lawswhich you cannot resist--for the moment becomes your own; and even whenyou know the object of exultation to be worthless or absurd, you arecontrolled by the electric current to join in the enthusiasm. Iremember once being thus carried away, and mingled my voice with therude throats that cheered the passing cortege of royalty. The moment itwas past, however, my heart fell, abashed at its own meanness andwickedness. 

Both his crew and passengers seemed to think our Captain imprudent inhis prudence: and a general clamour, mingled with cries of "Shame!" washeard all over the boat. 

The poor Captain! I had my eyes upon him all this while. I reallypitied him. I was perhaps the only passenger on board, beside the fairCreole, who knew his secret; and I could not help admiring the chivalricfortitude with which he kept it to himself. I saw his cheek glow, andhis eye sparkle with vexation; and I felt satisfied, that had he beencalled upon to make that promise then, he would not have done so for theprivilege of carrying all the freight upon the river. 

Just then, as if to escape the importunities that beset him, I saw himsteal back and pass through the ladies' cabin. There he was at oncerecognised, and a general onset was made upon him by his fairpassengers, who were almost as noisy in their petitions as the men. Several threatened him, laughingly, that they would never travel by hisboat again; while others accused him of a want of gallantry. Surely itwas impossible to resist such banterings; and I watched the Captainclosely, expecting a crisis one way or the other. The crisis was athand. 

Drawing himself up in the midst of a knot of these importunates, he thusaddressed them:--

"Ladies! Nothing would give me more pleasure than to gratify you, butbefore leaving New Orleans I gave my promise--in fact, passed my word ofhonour to a lady--" Here the gallant speech was interrupted by a younglady, who, rushing up from another part of the boat, cried out--

"Oh, Capitaine! cher Capitaine! do not let that wicked boat get ahead ofus! do put on more steam, and pass her--that is a dear Captain!"

"Why, Mademoiselle!" replied the Captain, in astonishment, "it was toyou I gave the promise not to run--it was--"

"Pardieu!" exclaimed Mademoiselle Besancon, for it was she. "So youdid. I had quite forgotten it. Oh, cher Capitaine, I release you fromthat promise. _Helas_! I hope it is not too late. For Heaven's sake, try to pass her! _Ecoutez! les polissons_! how they taunt us!"

The Captain's face brightened up for a moment, and then suddenly resumedits vexed expression. He replied--

"Mademoiselle, although grateful to you, I regret to say that under thecircumstances I cannot hope to run successfully against the Magnolia. We are not on equal terms. _She is burning bacon hams_, of which shehas a large supply. I should have had the same, but after promising younot to run, I, of course, did not take any on board. It would beuseless to attempt a race with only common cord-wood--unless indeed theBelle be much the faster boat, which we do not yet know, as we havenever tried her speed. "

Here appeared to be a dilemma, and some of the ladies regardedMademoiselle Besancon with looks of displeasure. 

"Bacon hams!" she exclaimed; "bacon hams did you say, cher Capitaine?How many would be enough? Would two hundred be enough?"

"Oh! less than that, " replied the Captain. 

"Here! Antoine! Antoine!" continued she, calling to the old steward. "How many bacon hams have you on board?"

"Ten barrels of them, Mademoiselle, " answered the steward, bowingrespectfully. 

"Ten barrels! that will do, I suppose? Cher Capitaine, they are at yourservice!"

"Mademoiselle, I shall pay you for them, " said the Captain, brighteningup, and becoming imbued with the general enthusiasm. 

"No--no--no! Let the expense be mine. I have hindered you. They werefor my plantation people, but they are not in want. We shall send downfor more. Go, Antoine! go to the firemen. Knock in the heads of thebarrels! Use them as you please, but do not let us be beaten by thatwicked Magnolia! Hark! how they cheer! Ha! we shall pass them yet. "

So saying, the fiery Creole rushed back to the guard-way, followed by agroup of admirers. 

The Captain's "dander" was now fairly up; and the story of the baconhams soon spreading over the boat, still further heightened theenthusiasm of both passengers and crew. Three loud cheers were givenfor the young lady, which seemed to mystify the Magnolians, who had nowbeen for some time in the enjoyment of their triumph, and had forged aconsiderable distance ahead. 

All hands went to work with a will--the barrels were rolled-up, theirheads knocked in, and part of their contents "chucked" up the blazingfurnace. The iron walls soon grew red--the steam rose--the boattrembled under the increased action of the engine--the bells of theengineers tinkled their signals--the wheels revolved more rapidly, andan increase of velocity was soon perceptible. 

Hope had stifled clamour--comparative silence was restored. There washeard only an occasional utterance--the expression of an opinion uponthe speed of the rival boats--the fixing the conditions of a bet--andnow and then some allusion to the story of the bacon hams. 

At intervals, all eyes were bent upon the water eagerly glancing alongthe line that separated the rival steamers. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

A BOAT-RACE UPON THE MISSISSIPPI. 

It had now become quite dark. There was no moon in the sky--not a speckof a star. A clear heaven over the lower region of the Mississippi, atnight, is rather rare than otherwise. The film of the swamp too oftenobscures it. 

There was light enough for the race. The yellow water shone clear. Itwas easily distinguishable from the land. The track was a wide one; andthe pilots of both boats--old hands--knew every "shute" and sand-bar ofthe river. 

The rival steamers were quite visible to one another. No lamps neededto be hung out, although the gaff over the bow of each boat carried itscoloured signal. The cabin windows of both were full of light, and theblaze of the bacon fires flung a vermilion glare far over the water. 

Upon each boat the spectators could be seen from the other in theirstate-room windows, or leaning against the guards, in attitudes thatbetokened their interest. 

By the time the Belle had fairly got up steam, the Magnolia was a fullhalf-mile in advance of her. This distance, though nothing where thereis a large difference of speed, is not so easily overtaken where theswiftness of the boats approximates to anything like an equality. Itwas a long while, therefore, before the people of the Belle could becertain as to whether she was gaining upon her rival; for it is somewhatdifficult to tell this when one vessel is running in the wake of theother. Questions were put by passengers to the various officials and toone another, and "guesses" were continually being made on thisinteresting point. 

At length an assurance was derived from the Captain, that severalhundred yards had been already taken up. This produced general joy, though not _universal_; for there were some "unpatriotic" individuals onboard the Belle who had risked their dollars on the Magnolia. 

In another hour, however, it was clear to all that our boat was fastgaining upon the Magnolia, as she was now within less than a quarter ofa mile of her. A quarter of a mile on smooth water appears but a shortdistance, and the people of the two boats could hold converse at will. The opportunity was not neglected by those of the Belle to pay back theboasts of the Magnolians. Shouts of banter reached their ears, andtheir former taunts were now returned with interest. 

"Have you any message for Saint Louis? We're going up there, and willbe happy to carry it for you, " shouted one from the Belle. 

"Hurraw for the bully-boat Belle!" vociferated another. 

"How are you off for bacon hams?" asked a third. "We can lend you afew, if you're out. "

"Where shall we say we left you?" inquired a fourth. "In Shirt-tailBend?" And loud peals of laughter followed this joking allusion to apoint in the river well-known to the boatmen. 

It had now approached the hour of midnight, and not a soul on eitherboat had thought of retiring to rest. The interest in the raceprecluded the idea of sleep, and both men and women stood outside thecabins, or glided out and in at short intervals to note the progress. The excitement had led to drinking, and I noticed that several of thepassengers were already half intoxicated. The officers, too, led on bythose, were indulging too freely, and even the Captain showed symptomsof a similar condition. No one thought of censure--prudence had fledfrom the boat. 

It is near midnight, and amidst the growling and grinding of themachinery, the boats are moving on! There is deep darkness upon thewater, but this is no impediment. The red fires glow; the blaze standshigh above the tall funnels; steam booms from the iron pipes; the hugepaddles lash the water into foam; the timbers creak and tremble underthe fierce pressure, and the boats move on!

It is near midnight. A space of two hundred yards alone separates thesteamers--the Belle is bounding upon the waves of the Magnolia. In lessthan ten minutes her head will overlap the stern of her rival. In lessthan twenty, and the cheer of victory rising from her deck will pealfrom shore to shore!

I was standing by the Captain of our boat, regarding him not without afeeling of solicitude. I regretted to see him pass so often to the"bar. " He was drinking deeply. 

He had returned to his station by the wheel-house, and was gazing ahead. Some straggling lights were gleaming on the right bank of the river, amile farther up. The sight of these caused him to start, and utter awild exclamation:--

"By Heavens! it is _Bringiers_!"

"Ye-e-s, " drawled the pilot at his elbow. "We've reached it in quicktime, I reckon. "

"Great God! I must lose the race!"

"How?" said the other, not comprehending him; "what has that got to dowith it?"

"I must land there. I must--I must--the lady who gave us the hams--Imust land her!"

"Oh! _that_, " replied the phlegmatic pilot; "a darned pity it is, " headded; "but if you must, you must. Darn the luck! We'd a-beat theminto shucks in another quarter, I reckon. Darn the luck!"

"We must give it up, " said the Captain. "Turn her head in. "

Saying this, he hurried below; and, observing his excited manner, Ifollowed him. 

A group of ladies stood upon the guard-way where the Captain descendedover the wheel-house. The Creole was among them. 

"Mademoiselle, " said the Captain, addressing himself to this lady, "wemust lose the race after all. "

"Why?" asked she in surprise; "are there not enough? Antoine! have youdelivered them all?"

"No, Mademoiselle, " replied the Captain, "it is not that, thanks to yourgenerosity. You see those lights?"

"Yes--well?"

"That is _Bringiers_. "

"Oh! it is, is it?"

"Yes;--and of course you must be landed there. "

"And that would lose you the race?"

"Certainly. "

"Then, of course, I must _not_ be landed there. What care I for a day?I am not so old but that I can spare one. Ha! ha! ha! You shall notlose your race, and the reputation of your fine boat, on my account. Think not of landing, cher Capitaine! Take me on to Baton Rouge. I canget back in the morning!"

A cheer rose from the auditory; and the Captain, rushing back to thepilot, countermanded his late order. 

The Belle again stands in the wake of the Magnolia, and again scarce twohundred yards of the river lie between. The rumbling of theirmachinery--the booming of their steam--the plashing of their paddles--the creaking of their planks--the shouts of those on board, mingle inrude concert. 

Up forges the Belle--up--up--gaining in spite of the throes of herantagonist. Up, nearer still--nearer, till her head laps upon thestern, then the wheel-house, then the foredeck of the Magnolia! Now thelights of both cross each other--their fires glow together upon thewater--they are head and head!

Another foot is gained--the Captain waves his hat--and the cheer oftriumph peals forth!

That cheer was never finished. Its first notes had scarce broke uponthe midnight air, when it was interrupted by an explosion like thebursting of some vast magazine--an explosion that shook the air, theearth, and the water! Timbers crashed and flew upward--men shouted astheir bodies were projected to the heavens--smoke and vapour filled theair--and one wild cry of agony arose upon the night!

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

THE LIFE-PRESERVER. 

The concussion, unlike anything I had ever heard, was, nevertheless, significant of the nature of the catastrophe. I felt an instantaneousconviction that the boilers had burst, and such in reality was the fact. 

At the moment, I chanced to be on the balcony in rear of my state-room. I was holding by the guard-rail, --else the shock and the sudden lurch ofthe boat would have flung me headlong. 

Scarce knowing what I did, I staggered into my state-room, and throughthe opposite door into the main saloon. 

Here I paused and looked around me. The whole forward part of the boatwas shrouded in steam and smoke, and already a portion of the hotscalding vapour floated through the cabin. 

Dreading the contact of this, I rushed aft; but by a fortunate chancethe lurch of the boat had brought her stern to windward, and the breezeblew the dangerous element away. 

The engine was now silent--the wheels had ceased to move--the'scape-pipe no longer gave out its booming notes; but instead of thesesounds, others of terrible import fell upon the ear. The shouts of men, mingled with oaths--wild, awful imprecations--the more shrill piercingshrieks of women--the groans of rounded from the deck below--theagonised cry of those blown into the water and drowning--all rang uponthe ear with terrible emphasis!

How changed the tones from those that, but a moment before, pealed fromthe self-same lips!

The smoky vapour was soon partially blown off, and I could catch aglimpse of the forward part of the boat. There a complete chaos met theeye. The smoking-saloon, the bar with its contents, the front awning, and part of the starboard wheel-house, were completely carried away--blown up as if a mine had been sprung beneath them--and the hugesheet-iron funnels had fallen forward upon the deck! At a glance I wasconvinced that captain, pilots, all who had been upon that part of theboat, must have perished!

Of course such reflections passed with the rapidity of thought itself, and occupied me not a moment of time. I felt that _I_ was still unhurt, and my first natural thought was that of preserving my life. I hadsufficient presence of mind to know there was no danger of a secondexplosion; but I perceived that the boat was badly injured, and alreadyleaning to one side. How long would she swim?

I had hardly asked myself the question when it was answered by a voicethat, in terrified accents, shouted out:--

"Good God! she is sinking! she is sinking!"

This announcement was almost simultaneous with the cry of "Fire!" and atthe same moment flames were seen bursting forth and shooting up to theheight of the hurricane-deck! Whether by burning up or going down, itwas evident the wreck would afford us but short refuge. 

The thoughts of the survivors were now turned to the Magnolia. I lookedin the direction of that boat. I perceived that she was doing her bestto back, and put round toward us; but she was still several hundredyards off! In consequence of the Belle having steered a while towardsthe Bringiers landing, the boats no longer ran in the same track; and, although they were head and head at the moment of the explosion, theywere separated from each other by a wide stretch of the river. A fullquarter of a mile distant appeared the Magnolia; and it was evident thata considerable time must elapse before she could get alongside. Wouldthe wreck of the Belle keep afloat so long?

At a glance I was convinced it would not. I felt it settling down undermy feet inch by inch; and the blaze already threatened the after-part ofthe boat, licking the light wood-work of the gaudy saloon as if it hadbeen flax! Not a moment was to be lost: we must take voluntarily to thewater, be drawn in by the sinking wreck, or driven to it by the fire. One of the three was inevitable!

You will fancy me to have been in a state of extreme terror at thismoment. Such, however, was not the case. I had not the slightest fearfor my own safety: not that I was redeemed from the common lot by anysuperior courage, but simply that I had confidence _in my resources_. Though sufficiently reckless in my temperament, I have never been afatalist. I have saved my life more than once by acts of volition--bypresence of mind and adroitness. The knowledge of this has freed mefrom the superstitions of fore-ordination and fatalism; and therefore, when not too indolent, I take precautions against danger. 

I had done so on the occasion of which I am writing. In my portmanteauI carried--I do so habitually--a very simple contrivance, alife-preserver. I always carry it in such a position as to be ready tothe hand. It is but the work of a moment to adjust this, and with itaround my body I feel no fear of being plunged into the broadest river, or even a channel of the sea. It was the knowledge of this, and not anysuperior courage, that supported me. 

I ran back to my state-room--the portmanteau was open--and in anothermoment I held the piece of quilted cork in my hands. In a few secondsits strap was over my head, and the strings securely knotted around mywaist. 

Thus accoutred, I stood _inside_ the state-room, intending to remainthere till the wreck should sink nearer the surface of the water. Settling rapidly as it was, I was convinced I should not have long towait. I closed the inner door of the room, and turned the bolt. Theouter one I held slightly ajar, my hand firmly clutching the handle. 

I had my object in thus shutting myself up. I should be less exposed tothe view of the terror-stricken wretches that ran to and fro likespectres--for any fear I now had was of _them_--not of the water. Iknew that, should the life-preserver be discovered, I should have acrowd around me in a moment--in fact, that escape by such means would behopeless. Dozens would follow me into the water--would cling to mylimbs--would drag me, in their despairing grasp, to the bottom!

I knew this; and, clutching the Venetian door with firmer grasp, I stoodpeering through the apertures in stealthy silence. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

"BLESSE. "

I had not been in this position more than a few seconds, when somefigures appeared in front of the door, and voices fell upon my ear thatI thought I recognised. Another glance revealed the speakers. Theywere the young Creole and her steward. 

The conversation passing between them was not a dialogue, but a seriesof exclamations--the hurried language of terror. The old man had gottogether a few cabin chairs; and with trembling hands was endeavouringto bind them together, with the design of forming a raft. He had noother cord than a handkerchief, and some strips of silk, which his youngmistress was tearing from her dress! It would have been but a feebleraft, had it been completed--not fit to have floated a cat. It was butthe effort of the drowning man "catching at straws. " I saw at a glancethat it would afford to neither of them the respite of a minute's life. The chairs were of heavy rosewood; and, perchance, would have gone tothe bottom of themselves!

The scene produced upon me an impression indescribably strange. I feltmyself standing upon a crisis. I felt called upon to choose betweenself and self-sacrifice. Had the choice left no chance of saving my ownlife, I fear I should have obeyed the "first law of nature;" but, asalready stated, of my own life I felt secure; the question was, whetherit would be possible for me also to save the lady?

I reasoned rapidly, and as follows;--The life-preserver--a very smallone--will not sustain us both! What if I fasten it upon her, and swimalongside? A little help from it now and then will be sufficient tokeep me afloat. I am a good swimmer. How far is it to the shore?

I looked in that direction. The glare of the blazing boat lit up thewater to a wide circumference. I could see the brown bank distinctly. It was full a quarter of a mile distant, with a sharp cross-currentrunning between it and the wreck. 

"Surely I can swim it?" thought I: "sink or swim, I shall make theattempt to save her!"

I will not deny that other reflections passed through my mind as I wasforming this resolve. I will not deny that there was a little _French_gallantry mixed up with better motives. Instead of being young andlovely, had Mademoiselle Besancon been old and plain, I think--that is--I--I fear--she would have been left to Antoine and his raft of chairs!As it was, my resolve was made; and I had no time to reflect uponmotives. 

"Mademoiselle Besancon!" I called out of the door. 

"Ha! Some one calls me;" said she, turning suddenly. "Mon Dieu! who isthere?"

"One who, Mademoiselle--"

"_Peste_!" muttered the old steward, angrily, as his eyes fell upon myface. He was under the belief that I wished to share his raft. 

"_Peste_!" he repeated; "'twill not carry two, monsieur. "

"Nor one, " I replied. "Mademoiselle, " I continued, addressing myself tothe lady; "those chairs will not serve, --they will rather be the meansof drowning you, --here--take this! it will save your life. "

As I spoke I had pulled off the preserver, and held it towards her. 

"What is this?" she inquired hastily; and then, comprehending all, shecontinued, "No--no--no, Monsieur! Yourself--yourself!"

"I believe I can swim ashore without it. Take it, Mademoiselle! Quick!quick! there is no time to be lost. In three minutes the boat will godown. The other is not near yet: besides, she may fear to approach thefire! See the flames! they come this way! Quick! Permit me to fastenit for you?"

"My God!--my God! generous stranger--!"

"No words; now--now it is on! Now to the water! Have no fear! plungein, and strike out from the wreck! fear not! I shall follow and guideyou! Away!"

The girl, partly influenced by terror, and partly yielding to myremonstrances, sprang off into the water; and the next moment I saw herbody afloat, distinguishable by the whitish drapery of her dress, thatstill kept above the surface. 

At that instant I felt some one grasping me by the hand. I turnedround. It was Antoine. 

"Forgive me, noble youth! forgive me!" he cried, while the tears randown his cheeks. 

I would have replied, but at the moment I perceived a man rush forwardto the guards, over which the girl had just passed. I could see thathis eye was fixed upon her, and that he had marked the life-preserver!His intention was evident--he had mounted the guard-rail, and was justspringing off as I reached the spot. I caught him by the collar, anddrew him back. As I did so his face came under the blaze, and Irecognised my betting bully. "Not so fast, Sir!" said I, still holdinghim. He uttered but one word in reply--and that was a fearful oath--butat the moment I saw in his uplifted hand the shining blade of abowie-knife! So unexpectedly did this weapon appear, that I had nochance of evading the blow; and the next moment I felt the cold steelpassing through my arm. It was not a fatal stab, however; and beforethe brute could repeat it, I had, in the phraseology of the ring, "planted" a blow upon his chin, that sent him sprawling over the chairs, while at the same time the knife flew out of his grasp. This I caughtup, and hesitated for a moment whether to use it upon the ruffian; butmy better feelings overcame my passion, and I flung the weapon into theriver. 

Almost instantaneously I plunged after. I had no time to tarry. Theblaze had reached the wheel-house, close to which we were, and the heatwas no longer to be borne. My last glance at the spot showed me Antoineand my antagonist struggling among the chairs!

The white drapery served me for a beacon, and I swam after it. Thecurrent had already carried it some distance from the boat, and directlydown stream. 

I had hurriedly divested myself of coat and boots, and as my othergarments were of light material they did not impede me. After a fewstrokes I swam perfectly free; and, keeping the white dress before myeyes, I continued on down the river. 

Now and then I raised my head above the surface and looked back. Istill had fears that the ruffian might follow; and I had nerved myselffor a struggle in the water!

In a few minutes I was alongside my _protegee_; and, after half-a-dozenhurried words of encouragement, I laid hold of her with one hand, andwith the other endeavoured to direct our course towards the shore. 

In this way the current carried us in a diagonal line, but we stillfloated down stream at a rapid rate. A long and weary swim it seemed tome. Had it been much longer I never should have reached the end of it. 

At length we appeared to be near the bank; but as we approached it mystrokes became feebler, and my left hand grasped my companion with asort of convulsive effort. 

I remember reaching land, however; I remember crawling up the bank withgreat difficulty, my companion assisting me! I remember seeing a largehouse directly in front of where we had come ashore; I remember hearingthe words--

"_C'est drole! c'est ma maison_--_ma maison veritable_!"

I remember staggering across a road, led by a soft hand, and entering agate, and a garden where there were benches, and statues, andsweet-smelling flowers--I remember seeing servants come from the housewith lights, and that my arms were red, and my sleeves dripping withblood! I remember from a female voice the cry--

"_Blesse_!" followed by a wild shriek; and of that scene I remember nomore!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

WHERE AM I?

When I awoke to consciousness, it was day. A bright sun was pouring hisyellow light across the floor of my chamber; and from the diagonalslanting of the beam, I could perceive that it was either very early inthe morning, or near sunset. 

But birds were singing without. It must be morning, reasoned I. 

I perceived that I was upon a low couch of elegant construction--withoutcurtains--but in their stead a mosquito-netting spread its gauzy meshesabove and around me. The snow-white colour and fineness of the linen, the silken gloss of the counterpane, and the soft yielding mattressbeneath, imparted to me the knowledge that I lay upon a luxurious bed. But for its extreme elegance and fineness, I might not have noticedthis; for I awoke to a sense of severe bodily pain. 

The incidents of the preceding night soon came into my memory, andpassed rapidly one by one as they had occurred. Up to our reaching thebank of the river, and climbing out of the water, they were all clearenough. Beyond that time I could recall nothing distinctly. A house, alarge gateway, a garden, trees, flowers, statues, lights, blackservants, were all jumbled together on my memory. 

There was an impression on my mind of having beheld amid this confusiona face of extraordinary beauty--the face of a lovely girl! Somethingangelic it seemed; but whether it had been a real face that I had seen, or only the vision of a dream, I could not now tell. And yet itslineaments were still before me, so plainly visible to the eye of mymind, so clearly outlined, that, had I been an artist, I could haveportrayed them! The face alone I could remember nothing else. Iremembered it as the opium-eater his dream, or as one remembers abeautiful face seen during an hour of intoxication, when all else isforgotten! Strange to say, I did not associate this face with mycompanion of the night; and my remembrance painted it not at all likethat of Eugenie Besancon!

Was there any one besides--any one on board the boat that my dreamresembled? No, not one--I could not think of one. There was none inwhom I had taken even a momentary interest--with the exception of theCreole--but the lineaments my fancy, or memory, now conjured up wereentirely unlike to hers: in fact, of quite an opposite character!

Before my mind's eye hung masses of glossy black hair, waving along thebrows and falling over the shoulders in curling clusters. Within thisebon framework were features to mock the sculptor's chisel. The mouth, with its delicate rose-coloured ellipse; the nose, with smooth straightoutline, and small recurvant nostril; the arching brows of jet; the longfringes upon the eyelids; all were vividly before me, and all unlike thefeatures of Eugenie Besancon. The colour of the skin, too--even thatwas different. It was not that Circassian white that characterised thecomplexion of the Creole, but a colour equally clear, though tinged witha blending of brown and olive, which gave to the red upon the cheeks atint of crimson. The eye I fancied, or remembered well--better thanaught else. It was large, rounded, and of dark-brown colour; but itspeculiarity consisted in a certain expression, strange but lovely. Itsbrilliance was extreme, but it neither flashed nor sparkled. It wasmore like a gorgeous gem viewed by the spectator while at rest. Itslight did not blaze--it seemed rather to burn. 

Despite some pain which I felt, I lay for many minutes pondering overthis lovely portrait, and wondering whether it was a memory or a dream. A singular reflection crossed my mind. I could not help thinking, thatif such a face were real, I could forget Mademoiselle Besancon, despitethe romantic incident that had attended our introduction!

The pain of my arm at length dissipated the beautiful vision, andrecalled me to my present situation. On throwing back the counterpane, I observed with surprise that the wound had been dressed, and evidentlyby a surgeon! Satisfied on this head, I cast my eye abroad to make areconnoissance of my quarters. 

The room I occupied was small, but notwithstanding the obstruction ofthe mosquito bar, I could see that it was furnished with taste andelegance. The furniture was light--mostly cane-work--and the floor wascovered with a matting of sea-grass finely woven, and stained intovarious colours. The windows were garnished with curtains of silkdamask and muslin, corresponding to the colour of the wood-work. Atable richly inlaid was near the centre of the floor, another, with_portefeuille_, pens, and ornamental ink stand, stood by the wall, andover this last was a collection of books ranged upon shelves of redcedar-wood. A handsome clock adorned the mantelpiece; and in the openfireplace was a pair of small "andirons, " with silver knobs, cast aftera fanciful device, and richly chased. Of course, there was no fire atthat season of the year. Even the heat caused by the mosquito bar wouldhave been annoying, but that the large glass-door on one side, and thewindow on the other, both standing open, gave passage to the breeze thatpenetrated through the nettings of my couch. 

Along with this breeze came the most delicious fragrance--the essence offlowers. Through both door and window I could see their thousandclustering corollas--roses, red, pink, and white--the rare camelia--azaleas, and jessamines--the sweet-scented China-tree--and farther off alittle I could distinguish the waxen leaves and huge lily-like blossomsof the great American laurel--the _Magnolia grandiflora_. I could hearthe voices of many singing-birds, and a low monotonous hum that Isupposed to be the noise of falling water. These were the only soundsthat reached my ears. 

Was I alone? I looked inquiringly around the chamber. It appeared so--no living thing met my glance. 

I was struck with a peculiarity in the apartment I occupied. Itappeared to stand by itself, and did not communicate with any other!The only door I could see, opened directly to the outside. So did thewindow, reaching door-like to the ground. Both appeared to lead into agarden filled with shrubs and flowers. Excepting the chimney, I couldperceive no other inlet or outlet to the apartment!

This at first seemed odd; but a moment's reflection explained it. It isnot uncommon upon American plantations to have a kind of office orsummer-house apart from the main building, and often fitted up in astyle of comfort and luxuriance. This becomes upon occasions the"stranger's room. " Perhaps I was in such an apartment. 

At all events, I was under an hospitable roof, and in good hands; thatwas evident. The manner in which I was encouched, along with certainpreparations, --the signs of a projected _dejeuner_ that appeared uponthe table, attested this. But who was my host? or was it a hostess?Was it Eugenie Besancon? Did she not say something of her house--"_mamaison_?" or did I only dream it?

I lay guessing and reflecting over a mass of confused memories; but Icould not from these arrive at any knowledge of whose guest I was. Nevertheless, I had a sort of belief that I was in the house of my lastnight's companion. 

I became anxious, and in my weakness perhaps felt a little vexed atbeing left alone. I would have rung, but no bell was within reach. Atthat moment, however, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. 

Romantic miss! you will fancy that those footsteps were light and soft, made by a small satin slipper, scarcely discomposing the loosest, tiniest pebble--stealthily drawing near lest their sound might awake thesleeping invalid--and then, in the midst of bird-music, and hummingwaters, and the sweet perfume of flowers, a fair form appeared in thedoorway, and I saw a gentle face, with a pair of soft, lovely eyes, in atimid inquiring glance, gazing upon me. You will fancy all this, nodoubt; but your fancy is entirely at fault, and not at all like thereality. 

The footsteps I heard were made by a pair of thick "brogans" ofalligator leather, and full thirteen inches in length; which brogans thenext moment rested upon the sill of the door directly before my eyes. 

On raising my glance a little higher, I perceived a pair of legs, inwide copper-coloured "jeans, " pantaloons; and carrying my eye stillhigher, I perceived a broad, heavy chest, covered with a striped cottonshirt; a pair of massive arms and huge shoulders, surmounted by theshining face and woolly head of a jet black negro!

The face and head came under my observation last; but on these my eyesdwelt longest, scanning them over and over, until I at length, despitethe pain I was suffering, burst out into a sonorous laugh! If I hadbeen dying, I could not have helped it; there was something so comic, soirresistibly ludicrous, in the physiognomy of this sable intruder. 

He was a full-grown and rather large negro, as black as charcoal, with asplendid tier of "ivories;" and with eyeballs, pupil and iridesexcepted, as white as his teeth. But it was not these that had tickledmy fancy. It was the peculiar contour of his head, and the set and sizeof his ears. The former was as round as a globe, and thickly coveredwith small kinky curlets of black wool, so closely set that they seemedto root at both ends, and form a "nap!" From the sides of this sablesphere stood out a pair of enormous ears, suggesting the idea of wings, and giving to the head a singularly ludicrous appearance. 

It was this peculiarity that had set me laughing; and, indecorous thoughit was, for the life of me I could not help it. 

My visitor, however, did not seem to take it amiss. On the contrary, heat once opened his thick lips, and displaying the splendid armature ofhis mouth in a broad and good-natured grin, began laughing as loudly asmyself!

Good-natured was he. His bat-like ears had infused nothing of thevampire into his character. No--the very type of jollity and fun wasthe broad black face of "Scipio Besancon, " for such was the cognomen ofmy visitor. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

"OLE ZIP. "

Scipio opened the dialogue:--

"Gollies, young mass'r! Ole Zip 'joiced to see um well 'gain--daat hebe. "

"Scipio is it?"

"Ye', mass'r--daat same ole nigger. Doctor told um to nuss de whitegenl'um. Won't young missa be glad haself!--white folks, black folks--all be glad, Wugh!"

The finishing exclamation was one of those thoracic efforts peculiar tothe American negro, and bearing a strong resemblance to the snort of ahippopotamus. Its utterance signified that my companion had finishedhis sentence, and waited for me to speak. 

"And who is `young missa'?" I inquired. 

"Gorramighty! don't mass'r know? Why, de young lady you fotch from deboat, when twar all ober a blaze. Lor! what a swum you make--half crossde riber! Wugh!"

"And am I in her house?"

"Ob sartin, mass'r--daat ar in de summer-house--for de big house am onoder side ob de garden--all de same, mass'r. "

"And how did I get here?"

"Golly! don't mass'r 'member how? Why, ole Zip carried 'im in yar indese berry arms. Mass'r an young missa come 'shore on de Lebee, downdar jes by de gate. Missa shout--black folks come out an find um--whitegenl'um all blood--he faint, an missa have him carried in yar. "

"And after?"

"Zip he mount fastest hoss--ole White Fox--an gallop for de doctor--gallop like de debil, too. Ob course de doctor he come back along anddress up mass'r's arm. 

"But, " continued Scipio, turning upon me an inquiring look, "how'd youngmass'r come by de big ugly cut? Dat's jes wha de Doc wanted to know, andat's jes wha young missa didn't know nuffin 'tall 'bout. "

For certain reasons I forbore satisfying the curiosity of my sablenurse, but lay for a moment reflecting. True, the lady knew nothing ofmy encounter with the bully. Ha! Antoine--then. Had he not comeashore? Was he--? Scipio anticipated the question I was about to put. His face became sad as he recommenced speaking. 

"Ah! young mass'r, Mamselle 'Genie be in great 'stress dis mornin--allde folks be in great 'stress. Mass'r Toney! Poor Mass'r Toney. "

"The steward, Antoine? What of him? Tell me, has he not come home?"

"No, mass'r--I'se afeerd he nebber, nebber will--ebberybody 'feerd he bedrownded--folks a been to de village--up an down de Lebee--ebery wha. No Toney. Captain ob de boat blowed clar into de sky, an fiftypassengers gone to de bottom. Oder boat save some; some, like youngmass'r, swam 'shore: but no Toney--no Mass'r Toney!"

"Do you know if he could swim?" I asked. 

"No, mass'r, ne'er a stroke. I knows daat, 'kase he once falled into debayou, and Ole Zip pull 'im out. No--he nebber swim--nebber. "

"Then I fear he is lost indeed. "

I remembered that the wreck went down before the Magnolia had got closealongside. I had noticed this on looking around. Those who could notswim, therefore, must have perished. 

"Poor Pierre, too. We hab lost Pierre. "

"Pierre? Who was he?"

"De coachman, mass'r, he war. "

"Oh! I remember. You think he is drowned, also?"

"I'se afeerd so, mass'r. Ole Zip sorry, too, for Pierre. A good niggerwar daat Pierre. But, Mass'r Toney, Mass'r Toney, ebberybody sorry forMass'r Toney. "

"He was a favourite among you?"

"Ebberybody like 'im--black folks, white folks, all lub 'im. Missa'Genie lub 'im. He live wi' ole Mass'r Sancon all him life. I believewar one ob Missy 'Genie gardiums, or whatever you call 'em. Gorramighty! what will young Missa do now? She hab no friends leff; anddaat ole fox Gayarre--he no good--"

Here the speaker suddenly interrupted himself, as if he feared that histongue was going too freely. 

The name he had pronounced and the expression by which it was qualified, at once awakened my curiosity--the name more than the qualification. 

"If it be the same, " thought I, "Scipio has characterised him nototherwise than justly. Can it be the same?"

"You mean Monsieur Dominique Gayarre, the _avocat_?" I asked, after apause. 

Scipio's great white eyeballs rolled about with an expression of mingledsurprise and apprehension, and rather stammeringly he replied:--

"Daat am de genl'um's name. Know 'im, young mass'r?"

"Only very slightly, " I answered, and this answer seemed to set mycompanion at his ease again. 

The truth is, I had no _personal_ acquaintance with the individualmentioned; but during my stay in New Orleans, accident had brought me incontact with the name. A little adventure had befallen me, in which thebearer of it figured--not to advantage. On the contrary, I hadconceived a strong dislike for the man, who, as already stated, was alawyer, or _avocat_ of the New Orleans bar. Scipio's man was no doubtthe same. The name was too rare a one to be borne by two individuals;besides, I had heard that he was owner of a plantation somewhere up thecoast--at Bringiers, I remembered. The probabilities were it was he. If so, and Mademoiselle Besancon had no other friend, then, indeed, hadScipio spoken truly when he said, "She hab no friends leff. "

Scipio's observation had not only roused my curiosity, but had impartedto me a vague feeling of uneasiness. It is needless to say that I wasnow deeply interested in this young Creole. A man who has saved alife--the life of a beautiful woman--and under such peculiarcircumstances, could not well be indifferent to the after-fate of her hehas rescued. 

Was it a lover's interest that had been awakened within me?

My heart answered, No! To my own astonishment, it gave this answer. Onthe boat I had fancied myself half in love with this young lady; andnow, after a romantic incident--one that might appear a very provocativeto the sublime passion--I lay on my couch contemplating the whole affairwith a coolness that surprised even myself! I felt that I had lost muchblood--had my incipient passion flowed out of my veins at the same time?

I endeavoured to find some explanation for this rare psychological fact;but at that time I was but an indifferent student of the mind. The landof love was to me a _terre inconnue_. 

One thing was odd enough. Whenever I essayed to recall the features ofthe Creole, the dream-face rose up before me more palpable than ever!

"Strange!" thought I, "this lovely vision! this dream of my diseasedbrain! Oh! what would I not give to embody this fair spectral form!"

I had no longer a doubt about it. I was certain I did not loveMademoiselle Besancon, and yet I was far from feeling indifferenttowards her. Friendship was the feeling that now actuated me. Theinterest, I felt for her was that of a friend. Strong enough was it torender me anxious on her account--to make me desirous of knowing moreboth of herself and her affairs. 

Scipio was not of secretive habit; and in less than half an hour I wasthe confidant of all he knew. 

Eugenie Besancon was the daughter and only child of a Creole planter, who had died some two years before, as some thought wealthy, whileothers believed that his affairs were embarrassed. Monsieur DominiqueGayarre had been left joint-administrator of the estate with the stewardAntoine, both being "guardiums" (sic Scipio) of the young lady. Gayarrehad been the lawyer of Besancon, and Antoine his faithful servitor. Hence the trust reposed in the old steward, who in latter years stood inthe relation of friend and companion rather than of servant to Besanconhimself. 

In a few months mademoiselle would be of age; but whether herinheritance was large, Scipio could not tell. He only knew that sinceher father's death, Monsieur Dominique, the principal executor, hadfurnished her with ample funds whenever called upon; that she had notbeen restricted in any way; that she was generous; that she was profusein her expenditure, or, as Scipio described it, "berry wasteful, anflung about de shinin dollars as ef dey war _donicks_!"

The black gave some glowing details of many a grand ball and _fetechampetre_ that had taken place on the plantation, and hinted at theexpensive life which "young missa" led while in the city, where sheusually resided during most part of the winter. All this I could easilycredit. From what had occurred on the boat, and other circumstances, Iwas impressed with the belief that Eugenie Besancon was just the personto answer to the description of Scipio. Ardent of soul--full of warmimpulses--generous to a fault--reckless in expenditure--livingaltogether in the present--and not caring to make any calculation forthe future. Just such an heiress as would exactly suit the purposes ofan unprincipled administrator. 

I could see that poor Scipio had a great regard for his young mistress;but, even ignorant as he was, he had some suspicion that all thisprofuse outlay boded no good. He shook his head as he talked of thesematters, adding--

"I'se afeerd, young mass'r, it'll nebber, nebber last. De Planters'bank hisseff would be broke by such a constant drawin ob money. "

When Scipio came to speak of Gayarre he shook his head still moresignificantly. He had evidently some strange suspicions about thisindividual, though he was unwilling, just then, to declare them. 

I learnt enough to identify Monsieur Dominique Gayarre with my _avocat_of the Rue --, New Orleans. No doubt remained on my mind that it wasthe same. A lawyer by profession, but more of a speculator in stocks--amoney-lender, in other words, usurer. In the country a planter, owningthe plantation adjoining that of Besancon, with more than a hundredslaves, whom he treats with the utmost severity. All this is incorrespondence with the calling and character of my Monsieur Dominique. They are the same. 

Scipio gives me some additional details of him. He was the law adviserand the companion of Monsieur Besancon--Scipio says, "Too often for olemass'r's good, " and believes that the latter suffered much from hisacquaintance: or, as Scipio phrases it, "Mass'r Gayarre humbug olemass'r; he cheat 'im many an many a time, I'se certain. "

Furthermore, I learn from my attendant, that Gayarre resides upon hisplantation during the summer months; that he is a daily visitor at the"big house"--the residence of Mademoiselle Besancon--where he makeshimself quite at home; acting, says Scipio, "as ef de place 'longed tohim, and he war de boss ob de plantation. "

I fancied Scipio knew something more about this man--some definitematter that he did not like to talk about. It was natural enough, considering our recent acquaintance. I could see that he had a strongdislike towards Gayarre. Did he found it on some actual knowledge ofthe latter, or was it instinct--a principle strongly developed in thesepoor slaves, who are not permitted to _reason_?

His information, however, comprised too many facts to be the product ofmere instinct: it savoured of actual knowledge. He must have learntthese things from some quarter. Where could he have gathered them?

"Who told you all this, Scipio?"

"Aurore, mass'r. "

"Aurore!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

MONSIEUR DOMINIQUE GAYARRE. 

I felt a sudden desire, amounting almost to anxiety, to learn who was"Aurore. " Why? Was it the singularity and beauty of the name, --fornovel and beautiful it sounded in my Saxon ears? No. Was it the mereeuphony of the word; its mythic associations; its less ideal applicationto the rosy hours of the Orient, or the shining phosphorescence of theNorth? Was it any of these associate thoughts that awoke within me thismysterious interest in the name "Aurore?"

I was not allowed time to reflect, or question Scipio farther. At thatmoment the door was darkened by the entrance of two men; who, withoutsaying a word, stepped inside the apartment. 

"Da doctor, mass'r, " whispered Scipio, falling back, and permitting thegentlemen to approach. 

Of the two it was not difficult to tell which was the "doctor. " Theprofessional face was unmistakeable: and I knew that the tall pale man, who regarded me with interrogative glance, was a disciple of Esculapius, as certainly as if he had carried his diploma in one hand and hisdoor-plate in the other. 

He was a man of forty, not ill-featured, though the face was not onethat would be termed handsome. It was, however, interesting, from aquiet intellectuality that characterised it, as well as an habitualexpression of kind feeling. It had been a German face some two or threegenerations before, but an American climate, --political, I mean, --hadtamed down the rude lines produced by ages of European despotism, andhad almost restored it to its primitive nobility of feature. Afterwards, when better acquainted with American types, I should haveknown it as a Pennsylvanian face, and such in reality it was. I sawbefore me a graduate of one of the great medical schools ofPhiladelphia, Dr Edward Reigart. The name confirmed my suspicion ofGerman origin. 

Altogether my medical attendant made a pleasing impression upon me atfirst sight. 

How different was that I received on glancing toward his companion--antagonism, hatred, contempt, disgust! A face purely French;--not thatnoble French face we see in the Duguesclins, the Jean Barts, and amongmany of the old Huguenot heroes; and in modern days in a Rollin, a Hugo, an Arago, or a Pyat;--but such an one as you may see any day by hundredssneaking around the Bourse or the _coulisses_ of the Opera, or inthousands scowling from under a shako in the ranks of a ruffiansoldiery. A countenance that I cannot describe better than by sayingthat its features forcibly reminded me of those of a fox. I am not injest. I observed this resemblance plainly. I observed the sameobliquity of eyes, the same sharp quick glance that betokened thepresence of deep dissimulation, of utter selfishness, of cruelinhumanity. 

In the Doctor's companion I beheld a type of this face, --the fox inhuman form, and with all the attributes of this animal highly developed. 

My instincts chimed with Scipio's, for I had not the slightest doubtthat before me stood Monsieur Dominique Gayarre. It was he. 

A man of small stature he was, and thinly built, but evidently one whocould endure a great deal before parting with life. He had all thesubtle wiry look of the _carnivora_, as well as their disposition. Theeyes, as already observed, obliqued strongly downwards. The balls werenot globe-shaped, but rather obtuse cones, of which the pupil was theapex. Both pupils and irides were black, and glistened like the eyes ofa weasel. They seemed to sparkle in a sort of habitual smile; but thissmile was purely cynical and deceptive. If any one knew themselvesguilty of a weakness or a crime they felt certain that Dominique Gayarreknew it, and it was at this he was laughing. When a case of misfortunedid really present itself to his knowledge, his smile became moreintensely satirical, and his small prominent eyes sparkled with evidentdelight. He was a lover of himself and a hater of his kind. 

For the rest, he had black hair, thin and limp--shaggy dark brows, setobliquely--face without beard, of pale cadaverous hue, and surmounted bya parrot-beak nose of large dimensions. His dress had somewhat of aprofessional cut, and consisted of dark broadcloth, with vest of blacksatin; and around his neck, instead of cravat, he wore a broad blackribbon. In age he looked fifty. 

The doctor felt my pulse, asked me how I had slept, looked at my tongue, felt my pulse a second time, and then in a kindly way desired me to keepmyself "as quiet as possible. " As an inducement to do so he told me Iwas still very weak, that I had lost a good deal of blood, but hopedthat a few days would restore me to my strength. Scipio was chargedwith my diet, and was ordered to prepare tea, toast, and broiledchicken, for my breakfast. 

The doctor did not inquire how I came by my wound. This I thoughtsomewhat strange, but ascribed it to his desire that I should remainquiet. He fancied, no doubt, that any allusion to the circumstances ofthe preceding night might cause me unnecessary excitement. I was tooanxious about Antoine to remain silent, and inquired the news. Nothingmore had been heard of him. He was certainly lost. 

I recounted the circumstances under which I had parted with him, and ofcourse described my encounter with the bully, and how I had received thewound. I could not help remarking a strange expression that marked thefeatures of Gayarre as I spoke. He was all attention, and when I toldof the raft of chairs, and expressed my conviction that they would notsupport the steward a single moment, I fancied I saw the dark eyes ofthe _avocat_ flashing with delight! There certainly was an expressionin them of ill-concealed satisfaction that was hideous to behold. Imight not have noticed this, or at all events not have understood it, but for what Scipio had already told me. Now its meaning wasunmistakeable, and notwithstanding the "poor Monsieur Antoine!" to whichthe hypocrite repeatedly gave utterance, I saw plainly that he wassecretly delighted at the idea of the old steward's having gone to thebottom!

When I had finished my narrative, Gayarre drew the doctor aside; and thetwo conversed for some moments in a low tone. I could hear part of whatpassed between them. The doctor seemed not to care whether I overheardhim, while the other appeared equally anxious that their conversationshould not reach me. From the replies of the doctor I could make outthat the wily lawyer wished to have me removed from my present quarters, and taken to an hotel in the village. He urged the peculiar position inwhich the young lady (Mademoiselle Besancon) would be placed--alone inher house with a stranger--a young man, etcetera, etcetera. 

The doctor did not see the necessity of my removal on such grounds. Thelady herself did not wish it--in fact, would not hear of it; hepooh-poohed the "peculiarity" of the "situation, " good Doctor Reigart!--the accommodation of the hotel was none of the best; besides, it wasalready crowded with other sufferers; and here the speaker's voice sankso low I could only catch odd phrases, as "stranger, ", "not anAmerican", "lost everything", "friends far away", "the hotel no placefor a man without money. " Gayarre's reply to this last objection wasthat _he_ would be responsible for my hotel bill. 

This was intentionally spoken loud enough for me to hear it; and Ishould have felt grateful for such an offer, had I not suspected somesinister motive for the lawyer's generosity. The doctor met theproposal with still further objections. 

"Impossible, " said he; "bring on fever", "great risk", "would not takethe responsibility", "bad wound", "much loss of blood", "must remainwhere he is for the present at least", "might be taken to the hotel in aday or two when stronger. "

The promise of my removal in a day or two appeared to satisfy the weaselGayarre, or rather he became satisfied that such was the only coursethat could be taken with me, and the consultation ended. 

Gayarre now approached the bed to take leave, and I could trace thatironical expression playing in the pupils of his little eyes as hepronounced some pretended phrases of consolation. He little knew towhom he was speaking. Had I uttered my name it would perhaps havebrought the colour to his pale cheek, and caused him to make an abruptexit. Prudence prevented me from declaring it; and when the doctorrequested to know upon whom he had the honour of attending, I adoptedthe pardonable strategy, in use among distinguished travellers, ofgiving a _nom du voyage_. I assumed my maternal patronymic ofRutherford, --Edward Rutherford. 

Recommending me to keep myself quiet, not to attempt leaving my bed, totake certain prescriptions at certain hours, etcetera, etcetera, thedoctor took his leave; Gayarre having already gone out before him. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

"AURORE. "

I was for the moment alone, Scipio having betaken himself to the kitchenin search of the tea, toast, and chicken "fixings. " I lay reflectingupon the interview just ended, and especially upon the conversationbetween the doctor and Gayarre, in which had occurred several pointsthat suggested singular ideas. The conduct of the doctor was naturalenough, indeed betokened the true gentleman; but for the other there wasa sinister design--I could not doubt it. 

Why the desire--an anxiety, in fact--to have me removed to the hotel?Evidently there was some strong motive, since he proposed to pay theexpenses; for from my slight knowledge of the man I knew him to be thevery opposite to generous!

"What can be his motive for my removal?" I asked myself. 

"Ha! I have it--I have the explanation! I see through his designsclearly! This fox, this cunning _avocat_, this guardian, is no doubt inlove with his own ward! She is young, rich, beautiful, a belle, and heold, ugly, mean, and contemptible; but what of that? He does not thinkhimself either one or the other; and she--bah!--he may even hope: farless reasonable hopes have been crowned with success. He knows theworld; he is a lawyer; he knows at least her world. He is hersolicitor; holds her affairs entirely in his hands; he is guardian, executor, agent--all; has perfect and complete control. With suchadvantages, what can he not effect? All that he may desire--hermarriage, or her ruin. Poor lady! I pity her!"

Strange to say, it was only _pity_. That it was not another feeling wasa mystery I could not comprehend. 

The entrance of Scipio interrupted my reflections. A young girlassisted him with the plates and dishes. This was "Chloe, " hisdaughter, a child of thirteen, or thereabouts, but not black like thefather! She was a "yellow girl, " with rather handsome features. Scipioexplained this. The mother of his "leettle Chlo, " as he called her, wasa mulatta, and "`Chlo' hab taken arter de ole 'oman. Hya! hya!"

The tone of Scipio's laugh showed that he was more than satisfied--proud, in fact--of being the father of so light-skinned and pretty alittle creature as Chloe!

Chloe, like all her kind, was brimful of curiosity, and in rolling aboutthe whites of her eyes to get a peep at the buckra stranger who hadsaved her mistress' life, she came near breaking cups, plates, anddishes; for which negligence Scipio would have boxed her ears, but formy intercession. The odd expressions and gestures, the novel behaviourof both father and daughter, the peculiarity of this slave-life, interested me. 

I had a keen appetite, notwithstanding my weakness. I had eaten nothingon the boat; in the excitement of the race, supper had been forgotten bymost of the passengers, myself among the number. Scipio's preparationsnow put my palate in tune, and I did ample justice to the skill ofChloe's mother, who, as Scipio informed me, was "de boss in de kitchen. "The tea strengthened me; the chicken, delicately fricasseed andgarnished upon rice, seemed to refill my veins with fresh blood. Withthe exception of the slight pain of my wound, I already felt quiterestored. 

My attendants removed the breakfast things, and after a while Scipioreturned to remain in the room with me, for such were his orders. 

"And now, Scipio, " I said, as soon as we were alone, "tell me ofAurore!"

"'Rore, mass'r!"

"Yes--Who is Aurore?"

"Poor slave, mass'r; jes like Ole Zip heamseff. "

The vague interest I had begun to feel in "Aurore" vanished at once. 

"A slave!" repeated I, involuntarily, and in a tone of disappointment. 

"She Missa 'Genie's maid, " continued Scipio; "dress missa's hair--waiton her--sit wi' her--read to her--do ebbery ting--"

"Read to her! what!--a slave?"

My interest in Aurore began to return. 

"Ye, mass'r--daat do 'Rore. But I 'splain to you. Ole Mass'r 'Sanconberry good to de coloured people--teach many ob um read debooks--'specially 'Rore. 'Rore he 'struckt read, write, many, manytings, and young Missa 'Genie she teach her de music. 'Rore she'complish gal--berry 'complish gal. Know many ting; jes like de whitefolks. Plays on de peany--plays on de guitar--guitar jes like banjo, anOle Zip play on daat heamseff--he do. Wugh!"

"And withal, Aurore is a poor slave just like the rest of you, Scipio?"

"Oh! no, mass'r; she be berry different from de rest. She lib differentlife from de other nigga--she no hard work--she berry vallyble--shefetch two thousand dollar!"

"Fetch two thousand dollars!"

"Ye, mass'r, ebbery cent--ebbery cent ob daat. "

"How know you?"

"'Case daat much war bid for her. Mass'r Marigny want buy 'Rore, anMass'r Crozat, and de American Colonel on de oder side ob ribber--deyall bid two thousand dollar--ole mass'r he only larf at um, and say hewon't sell de gal for no money. "

"This was in old master's time?"

"Ye--ye--but one bid since--one boss ob ribber-boat--he say he want'Rore for de lady cabin. He talk rough to her. Missa she angry--tell'im go. Mass'r Toney he angry, tell 'im go; and de boat captain he goangry like de rest. Hya! hya! hya!"

"And why should Aurore command such a price?"

"Oh! she berry good gal--berry good gal--but--"

Scipio hesitated a moment--"but--"

"Well?"

"I don't b'lieve, mass'r, daat's de reason. "

"What, then?"

"Why, mass'r, to tell de troof, I b'lieve dar all bad men daat wanted tobuy de gal. "

Delicately as it was conveyed, I understood the insinuation. 

"Ho! Aurore must be beautiful, then? Is it so, friend Scipio?"

"Mass'r, 'taint for dis ole nigger to judge 'bout daat; but folks deysay--bof white folks an black folks--daat she am de best-lookin' anhansomest quaderoom in all Loozyanna. "

"Ha! a _quadroon_?"

"Daat are a fact, mass'r, daat same--she be a gal ob colour--nebbermind--she white as young missa herseff. Missa larf and say so many, many time, but fr'all daat dar am great difference--one rich lady--t'other poor slave--jes like Ole Zip--ay, jes like Ole Zip--buy 'em, sell 'em, all de same. "

"Could you describe Aurore, Scipio?"

It was not idle curiosity that prompted me to put this question. Astronger motive impelled me. The dream-face still haunted me--thosefeatures of strange type--its strangely-beautiful expression, notCaucasian, not Indian, not Asiatic. Was it possible--probable--

"Could you describe her, Scipio?" I repeated. 

"'Scribe her, mass'r; daat what you mean? ye--yes. "

I had no hope of a very lucid painting, but perhaps a few "points" wouldserve to identify the likeness of my vision. In my mind the portraitwas as plainly drawn as if the real face were before my eyes. I shouldeasily tell if Aurore and my dream were one. I began to think it was nodream, but a reality. 

"Well, mass'r, some folks says she am proud, case de common niggers envyob her--daat's de troof. She nebber proud to Ole Zip, daat I knows--shetalk to 'im, an tell 'im many tings--she help teach Ole Zip read, and deole Chloe, and de leettle Chloe, an she--"

"It is a description of her person I ask for, Scipio. "

"Oh! a 'scription ob her person--ye--daat is, what am she like?"

"So. What sort of hair, for instance? What colour is it?"

"Brack, mass'r; brack as a boot. "

"Is it straight hair?"

"No, mass'r--ob course not--Aurore am a quaderoom. "

"It curls?"

"Well, not dzactly like this hyar;" here Scipio pointed to his own kinkyhead-covering; "but for all daat, mass'r, it curls--what folks call dewave. "

"I understand; it falls down to her shoulders?"

"Daat it do, mass'r, down to de berry small ob her back. "

"Luxuriant?"

"What am dat, mass'r?"

"Thick--bushy. "

"Golly! it am as bushy as de ole coon's tail. "

"Now the eyes?"

Scipio's description of the quadroon's eyes was rather a confused one. He was happy in a simile, however, which I felt satisfied with: "Dey ambig an round--dey shine like de eyes of a deer. " The nose puzzled him, but after some elaborate questioning, I could make out that it wasstraight and small. The eyebrows--the teeth--the complexion--were allfaithfully pictured--that of the cheeks by a simile, "like de red ob aGeorgium peach. "

Comic as was the description given, I had no inclination to be amusedwith it. I was too much interested in the result, and listened to everydetail with an anxiety I could not account for. 

The portrait was finished at length, and I felt certain it must be thatof the lovely apparition. When Scipio had ended speaking, I lay upon mycouch burning with an intense desire to see this fair--this pricelessquadroon. Just then a bell rang from the house. 

"Scipio wanted, mass'r--daat him bell--be back, 'gain in a minute, mass'r. "

So saying, the negro left me, and ran towards the house. 

I lay reflecting on the singular--somewhat romantic--situation in whichcircumstances had suddenly placed me. But yesterday--but the nightbefore--a traveller, without a dollar in my purse, and not knowing whatroof would next shelter me--to-day the guest of a lady, young, rich, unmarried--the invalid guest--laid up for an indefinite period; wellcared for and well attended. 

These thoughts soon gave way to others. The dream-face drove them outof my mind, and I found myself comparing it with Scipio's picture of thequadroon. The more I did so, the more I was struck with theircorrespondence. How could I have dreamt a thing so palpable? Scarceprobable. Surely I must have seen it? Why not? Forms and faces werearound me when I fainted and was carried in; why not hers among therest? This was, indeed, probable, and would explain all. But was sheamong them? I should ask Scipio on his return. 

The long conversation I had held with my attendant had wearied me, weakand exhausted as I was. The bright sun shining across my chamber didnot prevent me from feeling drowsy; and after a few minutes I sank backupon my pillow, and fell asleep. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

THE CREOLE AND QUADROON. 

I slept for perhaps an hour soundly. Then something awoke me, and I layfor some moments only half sensible to outward impressions. 

Pleasant impressions they were. Sweet perfumes floated around me; and Icould distinguish a soft, silky rustling, such as betokens the presenceof well-dressed women. 

"He wakes, ma'amselle!" half whispered a sweet voice. 

My eyes, now open, rested upon the speaker. For some moments I thoughtit was but the continuation of my dream. There was the dream-face, theblack profuse hair, the brilliant orbs, the arching brows, the small, curving lips, the damask cheek--all before me!

"Is it a dream? No--she breathes; she moves; she speaks!"

"See! ma'amselle--he looks at us! Surely he is awake!"

"It is no dream, then--no vision; it is she--it is Aurore!"

Up to this moment I was still but half conscious. The thought hadpassed from my lips; but, perhaps, only the last phrase was uttered loudenough to be heard. An ejaculation that followed fully awoke me, and Inow saw two female forms close by the side of my couch. They stoodregarding each other with looks of surprise. One was Eugenie; beyonddoubt the other was Aurore!

"Your name!" said the astonished mistress. 

"My name!" repeated the equally astonished slave. 

"But how?--he knows your name--how?"

"I cannot tell, ma'amselle. "

"Have you been here before?"

"No; not till this moment. "

"'Tis very strange!" said the young lady, turning towards me with aninquiring glance. 

I was now awake, and in full possession of my senses--enough to perceivethat I had been talking too loud. My knowledge of the quadroon's namewould require an explanation, and for the life of me I knew not what tosay. To tell what I had been thinking--to account for the expressions Ihad uttered--would have placed me in a very absurd position; and yet tomaintain silence might leave Ma'amselle Besancon busy with some strangethoughts. Something must be said--a little deceit was absolutelynecessary. 

In hopes she would speak first, and, perchance, give me a key to what Ishould say, I remained for some moments without opening my lips. Ipretended to feel pain from my wound, and turned uneasily on the bed. She seemed not to notice this, but remained in her attitude of surprise, simply repeating the words--

"'Tis very strange he should know your name!"

My imprudent speech had made an impression. I could remain silent nolonger; and, turning my face once more, I pretended now for the firsttime to be aware of Mademoiselle's presence, at the same time offeringmy congratulations, and expressing my joy at seeing her. 

After one or two anxious inquiries in relation to my wound, she asked--

"But how came you to name Aurore?"

"Aurore!" I replied. "Oh! you think it strange that I should know hername? Thanks to Scipio's faithful portraiture, I knew at the firstglance that this was Aurore. "

I pointed to the quadroon, who had retired a pace or two, and stoodsilent and evidently astonished. 

"Oh! Scipio has been speaking of her?"

"Yes, ma'amselle. He and I have had a busy morning of it. I have drawnlargely on Scipio's knowledge of plantation affairs. I am alreadyacquainted with Aunt Chloe, and little Chloe, and a whole host of yourpeople. These things interest me who am strange to your Louisianalife. "

"Monsieur, " replied the lady, seemingly satisfied with my explanation, "I am glad you are so well. The doctor has given me the assurance youwill soon recover. Noble stranger! I have heard how you received yourwound. For me it was--in my defence. Oh! how shall I ever repay you?--how thank you for my life?"

"No thanks, ma'amselle, are necessary. It was the fulfilment of asimple duty on my part. I ran no great risk in saving you. "

"No risk, monsieur! Every risk--from the knife of an assassin--from thewaves. No risk! But, monsieur, I can assure you my gratitude shall bein proportion to your generous gallantry. My heart tells me so;--alas, poor heart! it is filled at once with gratitude and grief. "

"Yes, ma'amselle, I understand you have much to lament, in the loss of afaithful servant. "

"Faithful servant, monsieur, say, rather, friend. Faithful, indeed!Since my poor father's death, he has been my father. All my cares werehis; all my affairs in his hands. I knew not trouble. But now, alas!I know not what is before me. "

Suddenly changing her manner, she eagerly inquired--

"When you last saw him, monsieur, you say he was struggling with theruffian who wounded you?"

"He was. --It was the last I saw of either. There is no hope--none--theboat went down a few moments after. Poor Antoine! poor Antoine!"

Again she burst into tears, for she had evidently been weeping before. I could offer no consolation. I did not attempt it. It was better sheshould weep. Tears alone could relieve her. 

"The coachman, Pierre, too--one of the most devoted of my people--he, too, is lost. I grieve for him as well; but Antoine was my father'sfriend--he was mine--Oh! the loss--the loss;--friendless; and yet, perhaps, I _may soon need friends. Pauvre Antoine_!"

She wept as she uttered these phrases. Aurore was also in tears. Icould not restrain myself--the eyes of childhood returned, and I toowept. 

This solemn scene was at length brought to a termination by Eugenie, whoappearing suddenly to gain the mastery over her grief, approached thebedside. 

"Monsieur, " said she, "I fear for some time you will find in me a sadhost. I cannot easily forget my friend, but I know you will pardon mefor thus indulging in a moment of sorrow. For the present, adieu! Ishall return soon, and see that you are properly waited upon. I havelodged you in this little place, that you might be out of reach ofnoises that would disturb you. Indeed I am to blame for this presentintrusion. The doctor has ordered you not to be visited, but--I--Icould not rest till I had seen the preserver of my life, and offered himmy thanks. Adieu, adieu! Come, Aurore!"

I was left alone, and lay reflecting upon the interview. It hadimpressed me with a profound feeling of friendship for EugenieBesancon;--more than friendship--sympathy: for I could not resist thebelief that, somehow or other, she was in peril--that over that youngheart, late so light and gay, a cloud was gathering. 

I felt for her regard, friendship, sympathy, --nothing more. And whynothing more? Why did I not love her, young, rich, beautiful? Why?

Because I loved another--_I loved Aurore_!

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

A LOUISIAN LANDSCAPE. 

Life in the chamber of an invalid--who cares to listen to its details?They can interest no one--scarce the invalid himself. Mine was a dailyroutine of trifling acts, and consequent reflections--a monotony, broken, however, at intervals, by the life-giving presence of the beingI loved. At such moments I was no longer _ennuye_; my spirit escapedfrom its death-like lassitude; and the sick chamber for the time seemedan Elysium. 

Alas! these scenes were but of a few minutes' duration, while theintervals between them were hours--long hours--so long, I fancied themdays. Twice every day I was visited by my fair host and her companion. Neither ever came alone!

There was constraint on my part, often bordering upon perplexity. Myconversation was with the _Creole_, my thoughts dwelt upon the_Quadroon_. With the latter I dare but exchange glances. Etiquetterestrained the tongue, though all the conventionalities of the worldcould not hinder the eyes from speaking in their own silent butexpressive language. 

Even in this there was constraint. My love-glances were given bystealth. They were guided by a double dread. On one hand, the fearthat their expression should not be understood and reciprocated by theQuadroon. On the other, that they might be too well understood by theCreole, who would regard me with scorn and contempt. I never dreamtthat they might awaken jealousy--I thought not of such a thing. Eugeniewas sad, grateful, and friendly, but in her calm demeanour and firm toneof voice there was no sign of love. Indeed the terrible shockoccasioned by the tragic occurrence, appeared to have produced acomplete change in her character. The sylph-like elasticity of hermind, formerly a characteristic, seemed to have quite forsaken her. From a gay girl she had all at once become a serious woman. She was notthe less beautiful, but her beauty impressed me only as that of thestatue. It failed to enter my heart, already filled with beauty of astill rarer and more glowing kind. The Creole loved me not; and, strange to say, the reflection, instead of piquing my vanity, rathergratified me!

How different when my thoughts dwelt upon the Quadroon! Did _she_ loveme? This was the question, for whose answer my heart yearned with fondeagerness. She always attended upon Mademoiselle during her visits; butnot a word dare I exchange with _her_, although my heart was longing toyield up its secret. I even feared that my burning glances might betrayme. Oh! if Mademoiselle but knew of my love, she would scorn anddespise me. What! in love with a slave! her slave!

I understood this feeling well--this black crime of her nation. Whatwas it to me? Why should I care for customs and conventionalities whichI at heart despised, even outside the levelling influence of love? Butunder that influence, less did I care to respect them. In the eyes ofLove, rank loses its fictitious charm--titles seem trivial things. Forme, Beauty wears the crown. 

So far as regarded my feelings, I would not have cared a straw if thewhole world had known of my love--not a straw for its scorn. But therewere other considerations--the courtesy due to hospitality--tofriendship; and there were considerations of a less delicate but stillgraver nature--the promptings of _prudence_. The situation in which Iwas placed was most peculiar, and I knew it. I knew that my passion, even if reciprocated, must be secret and silent. Talk of making love toa young miss closely watched by governess or guardian--a ward inChancery--an heiress of expectant thousands! It is but "child's play"to break through the _entourage_ that surrounds one of such. Toscribble sonnets and scale walls is but an easy task, compared with thebold effrontery that challenges the passions and prejudices of a people!

My wooing promised to be anything but easy; my love-path was likely tobe a rugged one. 

Notwithstanding the monotony of confinement to my chamber, the hours ofmy convalescence passed pleasantly enough. Everything was furnished methat could contribute to my comfort or recovery. Ices, deliciousdrinks, flowers, rare and costly fruits, were constantly supplied to me. For my dishes I was indebted to the skill of Scipio's helpmate, Chloe, and through her I became acquainted with the Creole delicacies of"gumbo", "fish chowder, " fricasseed frogs, hot "waffles, " stewedtomatoes, and many other dainties of the Louisiana _cuisine_. From thehands of Scipio himself I did not refuse a slice of "roasted 'possum, "and went even so far as to taste a "'coon steak, "--but only once, and Iregarded it as once too often. Scipio, however, had no scruples abouteating this fox-like creature, and could demolish the greater part ofone at a single sitting!

By degrees I became initiated into the little habitudes and customs oflife upon a Louisiana plantation. "Ole Zip" was my instructor, as hecontinued to be my constant attendant. When Scipio's talk tired me, Ihad recourse to books, of which a good stock (mostly French authors, )filled the little book-case in my apartment. I found among them nearlyevery work that related to Louisiana--a proof of rare judgment on thepart of whoever had made the collection. Among others, I read thegraceful romance of Chateaubriand, and the history of Du Pratz. In theformer I could not help remarking that want of _vraisemblance_ which, inmy opinion, forms the great charm of a novel; and which must ever beabsent where an author attempts the painting of scenes or costumes notknown to him by actual observation. 

With regard to the historian, he indulges largely in those childishexaggerations so characteristic of the writers of the time. This remarkapplies, without exception, to all the old writers on Americansubjects--whether English, Spanish, or French--the chroniclers oftwo-headed snakes, crocodiles twenty yards long, and was big enough toswallow both horse and rider! Indeed, it is difficult to conceive howthese old authors gained credence for their incongruous stories; but itmust be remembered that science was not then sufficiently advanced "toaudit their accounts. "

More than in anything else was I interested in the adventures andmelancholy fate of La Salle; and I could not help wondering thatAmerican writers have done so little to illustrate the life of the bravechevalier--surely the most picturesque passage in their early history--the story and the scene equally inviting. 

"The scene! Ah! lovely indeed!"

With such an exclamation did I hail it, when, for the first time, I satat my window and gazed out upon a Louisiana landscape. 

The windows, as in all Creole houses, reached down to the floor; andseated in my lounge-chair, with the sashes wide open, with the beautifulFrench curtains thrown back, I commanded an extended view of thecountry. 

A gorgeous picture it presented. The pencil of the painter couldscarcely exaggerate its vivid colouring. 

My window faces westward, and the great river rolls its yellow floodbefore my face, its ripples glittering like gold. On its farther shoreI can see cultivated fields, where wave the tall graceful culms of thesugar-cane, easily distinguished from the tobacco-plant, of darker hue. Upon the bank of the river, and nearly opposite, stands a noble mansion, something in the style of an Italian villa, with green Venetians andverandah. It is embowered in groves of orange and lemon-trees, whosefrondage of yellowish green glistens gaily in the distance. Nomountains meet the view--there is not a mountain in all Louisiana; butthe tall dark wall of cypress, rising against the western rim of thesky, produces an effect very similar to a mountain background. 

On my own side of the river the view is more gardenesque, as it consistsprincipally of the enclosed pleasure-ground of the plantation Besancon. Here I study objects more in detail, and am able to note the species oftrees that form the shrubbery. I observe the _Magnolia_, with largewhite wax-like flowers, somewhat resembling the giant _nympha_ ofGuiana. Some of these have already disappeared, and in their stead areseen the coral-red seed-cones, scarce less ornamental than the flowersthemselves. 

Side by side with this western-forest queen, almost rivalling her inbeauty and fragrance, and almost rivalling her in fame, is a lovelyexotic, a native of Orient climes--though here long naturalised. Itslarge doubly-pinnate leaves of dark and lighter green, --for both shadesare observed on the same tree; its lavender-coloured flowers hanging inaxillary clusters from the extremities of the shoots; its yellowcherry-like fruits--some of which are already formed, --all point out itsspecies. It is one of the _meliaceae_, or honey-trees, --the"Indian-lilac, " or "Pride of China" (_Melia azedarach_). Thenomenclature bestowed upon this fine tree by different nations indicatesthe estimation in which it is held. "Tree of Pre-eminence, " lays thepoetic Persian, of whose land it is a native; "Tree of Paradise" (_Arborde Paraiso_), echoes the Spaniard, of whose land it is an exotic. Suchare its titles. 

Many other trees, both natives and exotics, meet my gaze. Among theformer I behold the "catalpa, " with its silvery bark and trumpet-shapedblossoms; the "Osage orange, " with its dark shining leaves; and the redmulberry, with thick shady foliage, and long crimson calkin-like fruits. Of exotics I note the orange, the lime, the West Indian guava (_Psidiumpyriferum_), and the guava of Florida, with its boxwood leaves; thetamarisk, with its spreading minute foliage, and splendid panicles ofpale rose-coloured flowers; the pomegranate, symbol of democracy--"thequeen who carries her crown upon her bosom"--and the legendary butflowerless fig-tree, here not supported against the wall, but rising asa standard to the height of thirty feet. 

Scarcely exotic are the _yuccas_, with their spherical heads of sharpradiating blades; scarcely exotic the _cactacea_, of varied forms--forspecies of both are indigenous to the soil, and both are found among theflora of a not far-distant region. 

The scene before my window is not one of still life. Over the shrubberyI can see the white-painted gates leading to the mansion, and outside ofthese runs the Levee road. Although the foliage hinders me from a fullview of the road itself, I see at intervals the people passing along it. In the dress of the Creoles the sky-blue colour predominates, and thehats are usually palmetto, or "grass, " or the costlier Panama, withbroad sun-protecting brims. Now and then a negro gallops past, turbanedlike a Turk; for the chequered Madras "toque" has much the appearance ofthe Turkish head-dress, but is lighter and even more picturesque. Nowand then an open carriage rolls by, and I catch a glimpse of ladies intheir gossamer summer-dresses. I hear their clear ringing laughter; andI know they are on their way to some gay festive scene. The travellersupon the road--the labourers in the distant cane-field, chanting theirchorus songs--occasionally a boat booming past on the river--morefrequently a flat silently floating downward--a "keel, " or a raft withits red-shirted crew--are all before my eyes, emblems of active life. 

Nearer still are the winged creatures that live and move around mywindow. The mock-bird (_Turdus polyglotta_) pipes from the top of thetallest magnolia; and his cousin, the red-breast (_Turdus migratorius_), half intoxicated with the berries of the _melia_, rivals him in hissweet song. The oriole hops among the orange-trees, and the bold redcardinal spreads his scarlet wings amidst the spray of the lowershrubbery. 

Now and then I catch a glimpse of the "ruby-throat, " coming and goinglike the sparkle of a gem. Its favourite haunt is among the red andscentless flowers of the buck-eye, or the large trumpet-shaped blossomsof the _bignonia_. 

Such was the view from the window of my chamber. I thought I neverbeheld so fair a scene. Perhaps I was not looking upon it with animpartial eye. The love-light was in my glance, and that may haveimparted to it a portion of its _couleur de rose_. I could not lookupon the scene without thinking of that fair being, whose presence alonewas wanted to make the picture perfect. 

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

MY JOURNAL. 

I varied the monotony of my invalid existence by keeping a journal. 

The journal of a sick chamber must naturally be barren of incident. Mine was a diary of reflections rather than acts. I transcribe a fewpassages from it--not on account of any remarkable interest which theypossess--but because, dotted down at the time, they represent morefaithfully some of the thoughts and incidents that occurred to me duringthe remainder of my stay on the plantation Besancon. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_July 12th_. --To-day I am able to sit up and write a little. Theweather is intensely hot. It would be intolerable were it not for thebreeze which sweeps across my apartment, charged with the deliciousperfume of the flowers. This breeze blows from the Gulf of Mexico, byLakes Borgne, Pontchartrain, and Maauepas. I am more than one hundredmiles from the Gulf itself--that is, following the direction of theriver--but these great inland seas deeply penetrate the delta of theMississippi, and through them the tidal wave approaches within a fewmiles of New Orleans, and still farther to the north. Sea-water mightbe reached through the swamps at a short distance to the rear ofBringiers. 

This sea-breeze is a great benefit to the inhabitants of LowerLouisiana. Without its cooling influence New Orleans during the summermonths would hardly be habitable. 

Scipio tells me that a new "overseer" has arrived on the plantation, andthinks that he has been appointed through the agency of Mass'r Dominick. He brought a letter from the _avocat_. It is therefore probableenough. 

My attendant does not seem very favourably impressed with the new comer, whom he represents as a "poor white man from de norf, an a Yankee atdaat. "

Among the blacks I find existing an antipathy towards what they arepleased to call "poor white men"--individuals who do not possess slaveor landed property. The phrase itself expresses this antipathy; andwhen applied by a negro to a white man is regarded by the latter as adire insult, and usually procures for the imprudent black a scoring withthe "cowskin, " or a slight "rubbing down" with the "oil of hickory. "

Among the slaves there is a general impression that their mosttyrannical "overseers" are from the New England States, or "Yankees, " asthey are called in the South. This term, which foreigners applycontemptuously to all Americans, in the United States has a restrictedmeaning; and when used reproachfully it is only applied to natives ofNew England. At other times it is used jocularly in a patriotic spirit;and in this sense every American is proud to call himself a Yankee. Among the southern blacks, "Yankee" is a term of reproach, associated intheir minds with poverty of fortune, meanness of spirit, wooden nutmegs, cypress hams, and such-like chicanes. Sad and strange to say, it isalso associated with the whip, the shackle, and the cowhide. Strange, because these men are the natives of a land peculiarly distinguished forits Puritanism! A land where the purest religion and strictest moralityare professed. 

This would seem an anomaly, and yet perhaps it is not so much an anomalyafter all. I had it explained to me by a Southerner, who spoke thus:--

"The countries where Puritan principles prevail are those which producevice, and particularly the smaller vices, in greatest abundance. Thevillages of New England--the foci of blue laws and Puritanism. --furnishthe greatest number of the _nymphes du pave_ of New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and New Orleans; and even furnish a large export of them tothe Catholic capital of Cuba! From the same prolific soil spring mostof the sharpers, quacks, and cheating traders, who disgrace the Americanname. This is not an anomaly. It is but the inexorable result of apseudo-religion. Outward observance, worship, Sabbath-keeping, and thevarious forms, are engrafted in the mind; and thus, by complicating thetrue duties which man owes to his fellow-man, obscure or take precedenceof them. The latter grow to be esteemed as only of secondaryimportance, and are consequently neglected. "

The explanation was at least ingenious. 

_July 14th_. --To-day, twice visited by Mademoiselle; who, as usual, wasaccompanied by Aurore. 

Our conversation does not flow easily or freely, nor is it of longcontinuance. She (Mademoiselle) is still evidently suffering, and thereis a tone of sadness in everything she says. At first I attributed thisto her sorrow for Antoine, but it has now continued too long to be thusexplained. Some other grief presses upon her spirit. I suffer fromrestraint. The presence of Aurore restrains me; and I can ill giveutterance to those common-places required in an ordinary conversation. She (Aurore) takes no part in the dialogue; but lingers by the door, orstands behind her mistress, respectfully listening. When I regard hersteadfastly, her fringed eyelids droop, and shut out all communion withher soul. _Oh that I could make her understand me_!

_July 15th_. --Scipio is confirmed in his dislike for the new overseer. His first impressions were correct. From two or three little matterswhich I have heard about this gentleman, I am satisfied that he is a badsuccessor to the good Antoine. 

_A propos_ of poor Antoine, it was reported that his body had beenwashed up among some drift-timber below the plantation; but the reportproved incorrect. A body _was_ found, but not that of the steward. Some other unfortunate, who had met with a similar fate. I wonder ifthe wretch who wounded me is yet above water!

There are still many of the sufferers at Bringiers. Some have died ofthe injuries they received on board the boat. A terrible death is thisscalding by steam. Many who fancied themselves scarce injured, are nowin their last agonies. The doctor has given me some details that arehorrifying. 

One of the men, a "fireman, " whose nose is nearly gone, and who isconscious that he has but a short while to live, requested to see hisface in a looking-glass. Upon the request being granted, he broke intoa diabolical laugh, crying out at the same time, in a loud voice, "Whata damned ugly corpse I'll make. "

This reckless indifference to life is a characteristic of these wildboatmen. The race of "Mike Fink" is not extinct: many truerepresentatives of this demi-savage still navigate the great rivers ofthe West. 

_July 20th_. Much better to-day. The doctor tells me that in a week Imay leave my room. This is cheering; and yet a week seems a long whileto one not used to being caged in this way. The books enable me to killtime famously. All honour to the men who make books!

_July 21st_. --Scipio's opinion of the new overseer is not improved. Hisname is "Larkin. " Scipio says that he is well-known in the village as"Bully Bill Larkin"--a soubriquet which may serve as a key to hischaracter. Several of the "field-hands" complain (to Scipio) of hisseverity, which they say is daily on the increase. He goes aboutconstantly armed with a "cowhide, " and has already, once or twice, madeuse of it in a barbarous manner. 

To-day is Sunday, and I can tell from the "hum" that reaches me from thenegro "quarters, " that it is a day of rejoicing. I can see the blackspassing the Levee road, dressed in their gayest attire--the men in white_beaver_ hats, blue long-tailed coats, and shirts with enormous ruffles;the women in gaudy patterns of cotton, and not a few in silks brilliantenough for a ball-room! Many carry silk parasols, of course of thebrightest colours. One would almost be tempted to believe that in thisslave-life there was no great hardship, after all; but the sight of MrLarkin's cowhide must produce a very opposite impression. 

_July 24th_. --I noticed to-day more than ever the melancholy that seemsto press upon the spirit of Mademoiselle. I am now convinced thatAntoine's death is not the cause of it. There is some _present_ sourceof distraction, which renders her ill at ease. I have again observedthat singular glance with which she at first regarded me; but it was sotransitory, I could not read its meaning, and my heart and eyes weresearching elsewhere. Aurore gazes upon me less timidly, and seems to beinterested in my conversation, though it is not addressed to her. Wouldthat it were! Converse with her would perhaps relieve my heart, whichburns all the more fiercely under the restraint of silence. 

_July 25th_. --Several of the "field-hands" indulged too freely onyesternight. They had "passes" to the town, and came back late. "BullyBill" has flogged them all this morning, and very severely--so as todraw the blood from their backs. This is rough enough for a _new_overseer; but Scipio learns that he is an "old hand" at the business. Surely Mademoiselle does not know of these barbarities!

_July 26th_. --The doctor promises to let me out in three days. I havegrown to esteem this man--particularly since I made the discovery thathe is _not_ a friend of Gayarre. He is not his medical attendanteither. There is another _medico_ in the village, who has charge ofMonsieur Dominique and his blacks, as also the slaves of the Besanconplantation. The latter chanced to be out of the way, and so Reigart wascalled to me. Professional etiquette partly, and partly my owninterference, forbade any change in this arrangement; and the lattercontinued to attend me. I have seen the other gentleman, who came oncein Reigart's company, and he appears much more suited to be the friendof the _avocat_. 

Reigart is a stranger in Bringiers, but seems to be rapidly rising inthe esteem of the neighbouring planters. Indeed, many of these--the"grandees" among them--keep physicians of their own, and pay themhandsomely, too! It would be an unprofitable speculation to neglect thehealth of the slave; and on this account it is better looked after thanthat of the "poor white folks" in many a European state. 

I have endeavoured to draw from the doctor some facts, regarding theconnexion existing between Gayarre and the family of Besancon. I couldonly make distant allusion to such a subject. I obtained no verysatisfactory information. The doctor is what might be termed a "closeman, " and too much talking would not make one of his profession verypopular in Louisiana. He either knows but little of their affairs, oraffects not to know; and yet, from some expressions that dropped fromhim, I suspect the latter to be the more probable. 

"Poor young lady!" said he; "quite alone in the world. I believe thereis an aunt, or something of the kind, who lives in New Orleans, but shehas no male relation to look after her affairs. Gayarre seems to haveeverything in his hands. "

I gathered from the doctor that Eugenie's father had been much richer atone period--one of the most extensive planters on the coast; that he hadkept a sort of "open house, " and dispensed hospitality in princelystyle. "Fetes" on a grand scale had been given, and this moreparticularly of late years. Even since his death profuse hospitalityhas been carried on, and Mademoiselle continues to receive her father'sguests after her father's fashion. Suitors she has in plenty, but thedoctor has heard of no one who is regarded in the light of a "lover. "

Gayarre had been the intimate friend of Besancon. Why, no one couldtell; for their natures were as opposite as the poles. It was thoughtby some that their friendship had a little of the character of thatwhich usually exists between _debtor_ and _creditor_. 

The information thus imparted by the doctor confirms what Scipio hasalready told me. It confirms, too, my suspicions in regard to the youngCreole, that there is a cloud upon the horizon of her future, darkerthan any that has shadowed her past--darker even than that produced bythe memory of Antoine!

_July 28th_. --Gayarre has been here to-day--at the house, I mean. Infact, he visits Mademoiselle nearly every day; but Scipio tells mesomething new and strange. It appears that some of the slaves who hadbeen flogged, complained of the overseer to their young mistress; andshe in her turn spoke to Gayarre on the subject. His reply was that the"black rascals deserved all they had got, and more, " and somewhat rudelyupheld the ruffian Larkin, who is beyond a doubt his _protege_. Thelady was silent. 

Scipio learns these facts from Aurore. There is something ominous inall this. 

Poor Scipio has made me the confidant of another, and a private grief. He suspects that the overseer is looking too kindly upon "him kettleChloe. " The brute! if this be so!--My blood boils at the thought--oh!slavery!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_August 2nd_. --I hear of Gayarre again. He has been to the house, andmade a longer stay with Mademoiselle than usual. What can he have to dowith her? Can his society be agreeable to her? Surely that isimpossible! And yet such frequent visits--such long conferences! Ifshe marry such a man as this I pity her, poor victim!--for victim willshe be. He must have some power over her to act as he is doing. Heseems master of the plantation, says Scipio, and issues his orders toevery one with the air of its owner. All fear him and his"nigger-driver, " as the ruffian Larkin is called. The latter is morefeared by Scipio, who has noticed some further rude conduct on the partof the overseer towards "him leettle Chloe. " Poor fellow! he is greatlydistressed; and no wonder, when even the law does not allow him toprotect the honour of his own child!

I have promised to speak to Mademoiselle about the affair; but I fear, from what reaches my ears, that she is almost as powerless as Scipiohimself!

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_August 3rd_. --To-day, for the first time, I am able to go out of myroom. I have taken a walk through the shrubbery and garden. Iencountered Aurore among the orange-trees, gathering the golden fruit;but she was accompanied by little Chloe, who held the basket. Whatwould I not have given to have found her alone! A word or two only wasI able to exchange with her, and she was gone. 

She expressed her pleasure at seeing me able to be abroad. She _seemed_pleased; I fancied she felt so, I never saw her look so lovely. Theexercise of shaking down the oranges had brought out the rich crimsonbloom upon her cheeks, and her large brown eyes were shining likesapphires. Her full bosom rose and fell with her excited breathing, andthe light wrapper she wore enabled me to trace the noble outlines of herform. 

I was struck with the gracefulness of her gait as she walked away. Itexhibited an undulating motion, produced by a peculiarity of figure--acertain _embonpoint_ characteristic of her race. She was large andwomanly, yet of perfect proportion and fine delicate outlines. Herhands were small and slender, and her little feet seemed hardly to pressupon the pebbles. My eyes followed her in a delirium of admiration. The fire in my heart burned fiercer as I returned to my solitarychamber. 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

A CHANGE OF QUARTERS. 

I was thinking over my short interview with Aurore--congratulatingmyself upon some expressions she had dropped--happy in the anticipationthat such encounters would recur frequently, now that I was able to beabroad--when in the midst of my pleasant reverie the door of myapartment became darkened. I looked up, and beheld the hated face ofMonsieur Dominique Gayarre. 

It was his first visit since the morning after my arrival upon theplantation. What could _he_ want with _me_?

I was not kept long in suspense, for my visitor, without evenapologising for his intrusion, opened his business abruptly and at once. 

"Monsieur, " began he, "I have made arrangements for your removal to thehotel at Bringiers. "

"You have?" said I, interrupting him in a tone as abrupt and somethingmore indignant than his own. "And who, sir, may I ask, has commissioned_you_ to take this trouble?"

"Ah--oh!" stammered he, somewhat tamed down by his brusque reception, "Ibeg pardon, Monsieur. Perhaps you are not aware that I am the agent--the friend--in fact, the guardian of Mademoiselle Besancon--and--and--"

"Is it Mademoiselle Besancon's wish that I go to Bringiers?"

"Well--the truth is--not exactly her wish; but you see, my dear sir, itis a delicate affair--your remaining here, now that you are almost quiterecovered, upon which I congratulate you--and--and--"

"Go on, sir!"

"Your remaining here any longer--under the circumstances--would be--youcan judge for yourself, sir--would be, in fact, a thing that would betalked about in the neighbourhood--in fact, considered highly improper. "

"Hold, Monsieur Gayarre! I am old enough not to require lessons inetiquette from you, sir. "

"I beg pardon, sir. I do not mean that but--I--you will observe--I, asthe lawful guardian of the young lady--"

"Enough, sir. I understand you perfectly. For _your purposes, whateverthey be_, you do not wish me to remain any longer on this plantation. Your desire shall be gratified. I shall leave the place, thoughcertainly not with any intention of accommodating you. I shall go hencethis very evening. "

The words upon which I had placed emphasis, startled the coward like agalvanic shock. I saw him turn pale as they were uttered, and thewrinkles deepened about his eyes. I had touched a chord, which hedeemed a secret one, and its music sounded harsh to him. Lawyer-like, however, he commanded himself, and without taking notice of myinsinuation, replied in a tone of whining hypocrisy--

"My dear monsieur! I regret this necessity; but the fact is, you see--the world--the busy, meddling world--"

"Spare your homilies, sir! Your business, I fancy, is ended; at allevents your company is no longer desired. "

"Humph!" muttered he. "I regret you should take it in this way--I amsorry--"

And with a string of similar incoherent phrases he made his exit. 

I stepped up to the door and looked after, to see which way he wouldtake. He walked direct to the house! I saw him go in!

This visit and its object had taken me by surprise, though I had notbeen without some anticipation of such an event. The conversation I hadoverheard between him and the doctor rendered it probable that suchwould be the result; though I hardly expected being obliged to change myquarters so soon. For another week or two I had intended to stay whereI was. When quite recovered, I should have moved to the hotel of my ownaccord. 

I felt vexed, and for several reasons. It chagrined me to think thatthis wretch possessed such a controlling influence; for I did notbelieve that Mademoiselle Besancon had anything to do with my removal. Quite the contrary. She had visited me but a few hours before, and nota word had been said of the matter. Perhaps she might have thought ofit, and did not desire to mention it? But no. This could hardly be. Inoticed no change in her manner during the interview. The samekindness--the same interest in my recovery--the same solicitude aboutthe little arrangements of my food and attendance, were shown by her upto the last moment. She evidently contemplated no change so sudden asthat proposed by Gayarre. Reflection convinced me that the proposal hadbeen made without any previous communication with _her_. 

What must be the influence of this man, that he dare thus step betweenher and the rites of hospitality? It was a painful thought to me, tosee this fair creature in the power of such a villain. 

But another thought was still more painful--the thought of parting withAurore. Though I did not fancy that parting was to be for ever. No!Had I believed that, I should not have yielded so easily. I should haveput Monsieur Dominique to the necessity of a positive expulsion. Ofcourse, I had no apprehension that by removing to the village I shouldbe debarred from visiting the plantation as often as I felt inclined. Had that been the condition, my reflections would have been painfulindeed. 

After all, the change would signify little. I should return as avisitor, and in that character be more independent than as a guest--morefree, perhaps, to approach the object of my love! I could come as oftenas I pleased. The same opportunities of seeing her would still be opento me. I wanted but one--one moment alone with Aurore--and then blissor blighted hopes!

But there were other considerations that troubled me at this moment. How was I to live at the hotel? Would the proprietor believe inpromises, and wait until my letters, already sent off, could beanswered? Already I had been provided with suitable apparel, mysteriously indeed. I awoke one morning and found it by my bedside. Imade no inquiry as to how it came there. That would be anafter-consideration; but with regard to money, how was that to beobtained? Must I become _her_ debtor? Or am I to be under obligationsto Gayarre? Cruel dilemma!

At this juncture I thought of Reigart. His calm, kind face came upbefore me. 

"An alternative!" soliloquised I; "he will help me!"

The thought seemed to have summoned him; for at that moment the gooddoctor entered the room, and became the confidant of my wishes. 

I had not misjudged him. His purse lay open upon the table; and Ibecame his debtor for as much of its contents as I stood in need of. 

"Very strange!" said he, "this desire of hurrying you off on the part ofMonsieur Gayarre. There is something more in it than solicitude for thecharacter of the lady. Something more: what can it all mean?"

The doctor said this partly in soliloquy, and as if searching his ownthoughts for an answer. 

"I am almost a stranger to Mademoiselle Besancon, " he continued, "else Ishould deem it my duty to know more of this matter. But MonsieurGayarre is her guardian; and if he desire you to leave, it will perhapsbe wiser to do so. _She may not be her own mistress entirely_. Poorthing! I fear there is debt at the bottom of the mystery; and if so, she will be more a slave than any of her own people. Poor young lady!"

Reigart was right. My remaining longer might add to her embarrassments. I felt satisfied of this. 

"I am desirous to go at once, doctor. "

"My barouche is at the gate, then. You can have a seat in it. I canset you down at the hotel. "

"Thanks, thanks! the very thing I should have asked of you, and I acceptyour offer. I have but few preparations to make, and will be ready foryou in a moment. "

"Shall I step over to the house, and prepare Mademoiselle for yourdeparture?"

"Be so kind. I believe Gayarre is now there?"

"No. I met him near the gate of his own plantation, returning home. Ithink she is alone. I shall see her and return for you. "

The doctor left me, and walked over to the house. He was absent but afew minutes, when he returned to make his report. He was still furtherperplexed at what he had learnt. 

Mademoiselle had heard from Gayarre, just an hour before, that _I hadexpressed my intention_ of removing to the hotel! She had beensurprised at this, as I had said nothing about it at our late interview. She would not hear of it at first, but Gayarre had used _arguments_ toconvince her of the policy of such a step; and the doctor, on my part, had also urged it. She had at length, though reluctantly, consented. Such was the report of the doctor, who further informed me that she waswaiting to receive me. 

Guided by Scipio, I made my way to the drawing-room. I found herseated; but upon my entrance she rose, and came forward to meet me withboth hands extended. I saw that _she was in tears_!

"Is it true you intend leaving us, Monsieur?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle; I am now quite strong again. I have come to thankyou for your kind hospitality, and say adieu. "

"Hospitality!--ah, Monsieur, you have reason to think it coldhospitality since I permit you to leave us so soon. I would you hadremained; but--" Here she became embarrassed: "but--you are not to be astranger, although you go to the hotel. Bringiers is near; promise thatyou will visit us often--in fact, every day?"

I need not say that the promise was freely and joyfully given. 

"Now, " said she, "since you have given that promise, with less regret Ican say adieu!"

She extended her hand for a parting salute. I took her fingers in mine, and respectfully kissed them. I saw the tears freshly filling in hereyes, as she turned away to conceal them. 

I was convinced she was acting under constraint, and against herinclination, else I should not have been allowed to depart. Hers wasnot the spirit to fear gossip or scandal. Some other _pressure_ wasupon her. 

I was passing out through the hall, my eyes eagerly turning in everydirection. Where was _she_? Was I not to have _even a parting word_!

At that moment a side-door was gently opened. My heart beat wildly asit turned upon its hinge. Aurore!

I dare not trust myself to speak aloud. It would have been overheard inthe drawing-room. A look, a whisper, a silent pressure of the hand, andI hurried away; but the return of that pressure, slight and almostimperceptible as it was, fired my veins with delight; and I walked ontowards the gate with the proud step of a conqueror. 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

AURORE LOVES ME. 

"_Aurore loves me_!"

The thought thus expressed was of younger date than the day of myremoving to Bringiers from the plantation. A month had elapsed sincethat day. 

The details of my life during that month would possess but littleinterest for you, reader; though to me every hour was fraught with hopesor fears that still hold a vivid place in my memory. When the heart ischarged with love, every trifle connected with that love assumes themagnitude of an important matter; and thoughts or incidents thatotherwise would soon be forgotten, hold a firm place in the memory. Icould write a volume about my affairs of that month, every line of whichwould be deeply interesting to _me_, but not to _you_. Therefore Iwrite it not; I shall not even present you with the journal that holdsits history. 

I continued to live in the hotel at Bringiers. I grew rapidly stronger. I spent most of my time in rambling through the fields and along theLevee--boating upon the river--fishing in the bayous--hunting throughthe cane-breaks and cypress-swamps, and occasionally killing time at agame of billiards, for every Louisiana village has its billiard salon. 

The society of Reigart, whom I now called friend, I enjoyed--when hisprofessional engagements permitted. 

His books, too, were my friends; and from these I drew my first lessonsin botany. I studied the _sylva_ of the surrounding woods, till at aglance I could distinguish every tree and its kind--the giant cypress, emblem of sorrow, with tall shaft shooting out of the apex of itspyramidal base, and crowned with its full head of sad dark foliage, --sadder from its drapery of _tillandsia_; the "tupelo" (_Nyssaaquatica_), that nymph that loves the water, with long delicate leavesand olive-like fruit--the "persimmon, " or "American lotus" (_DiospyrosVirginiana_), with its beautiful green foliage and red date-plums--thegorgeous magnolia grandiflora, and its congener, the tall tulip-tree(_Liriodendron tulipifera_)--the water-locust (_Gleditschiamonosperma_); and, of the same genus, the three-thorned honey-locust(_triacanthos_), whose light pinnated leaves scarce veil the sun--thesycamore (_platanus_), with its smooth trunk and wide-reaching limbs ofsilvery hue--the sweet-gum (_Liquidambar styraciflua_), exuding itsgolden drops--the aromatic but sanitary "sassafras" (_Laurussassafras_)--the "red-bay" (_Laurus Caroliniensis_), of cinnamon-likearoma--the oaks of many species, at the head of which might be placedthat majestic evergreen of the southern forests, the "live-oak"(_Quercus virens_)--the "red ash, " with its hanging bunches of_samarce_--the shady nettle-tree (_Celtis crassifolia_), with its largecordate leaves and black drupes--and last, though not least interesting, the water-loving cotton-wood (_Populus angulata_). Such is the sylvathat covers the alluvion of Louisiana. 

It is a region beyond the limits of the true palm-tree; but this has itsrepresentative in the palmetto--"latanier" of the French--the _Sabal_palm of the botanist, of more than one species, forming in many placesthe underwood, and giving a tropical character to the forest. 

I studied the parasites--the huge llianas, with branches liketree-trunks, black and gnarled; the cane-vines, with pretty star-likeflowers; the muscadine grape-vines, with their dark purple clusters; the_bignonias_, with trumpet-shaped corollas; the _smilacae_, among whichare conspicuous the _Smilax rotundifolia_, the thick bamboo-briar, andthe balsamic sarsaparilla. 

Not less interesting were the vegetable forms of cultivation--the"staples" from which are drawn the wealth of the land. These were thesugar-cane, the rice-reed, the maize and tobacco-plants, the cottonshrub, and the indigo. All were new to me, and I studied theirpropagation and culture with interest. 

Though a month apparently passed in idleness, it was, perhaps, one ofthe most profitably employed of my life. In that short month I acquiredmore real knowledge than I had done during years of classic study. 

But I had learnt one fact that I prized above all, and that was, that _Iwas beloved by Aurore_!

I learnt it not from her lips--no words had given me the assurance--andyet I was certain that it _was_ so; certain as that I lived. Not allthe knowledge in the world could have given me the pleasure of that onethought!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"_Aurora loves me_!"

This was my exclamation, as one morning I emerged from the village uponthe road leading to the plantation. Three times a week--sometimes evenmore frequently--I had made this journey. Sometimes I encounteredstrangers at the house--friends of Mademoiselle. Sometimes I found heralone, or in company with Aurore. The latter I could never find alone!Oh! how I longed for that opportunity!

My visits, of course, were ostensibly to Mademoiselle. I dared not seekan interflow with the slave. 

Eugenie still preserved the air of melancholy, that now appeared to havesettled upon her. Sometimes she was even sad, --at no time cheerful. AsI was not made the confidant of her sorrows, I could only guess at thecause. Gayarre, of course, I believed to be the fiend. 

Of him I had learnt little. He shunned me on the road, or in thefields; and upon _his_ grounds I never trespassed. I found that he washeld in but little respect, except among those who worshipped hiswealth. How he was prospering in his suit with Eugenie I knew not. Theworld talked of such a thing as among the "probabilities"--though one ofthe strange ones, it was deemed. I had sympathy for the young Creole, but I might have felt it more profoundly under other circumstances. Asit was, my whole soul was under the influence of a stronger passion--mylove for Aurore. 

"Yes--Aurore loves me!" I repeated to myself as I passed out from thevillage, and faced down the Levee road. 

I was mounted. Reigart, in his generous hospitality, had even made memaster of a horse--a fine animal that rose buoyantly under me, as thoughhe was also imbued by some noble passion. 

My well-trained steed followed the path without need of guidance, anddropping the bridle upon his neck, I left him to go at will, and pursuedthe train of my reflections. 

I loved this young girl--passionately and devotedly I loved her. Sheloved me. She had not declared it in words, but her looks; and now andthen a slight incident--scarce more than a fleeting glance or gesture--had convinced me that it was so. 

Love taught me its own language. I needed no interpreter--no tongue totell I was beloved. 

These reflections were pleasant, far more than pleasant; but othersfollowed them of a very different nature. 

With whom was I in love? A slave! True, a beautiful slave--but still aslave! How the world would laugh! how Louisiana would laugh--nay, scornand persecute! The very proposal to make her my wife would subject meto derision and abuse. "What! marry a slave! 'Tis contrary to the lawsof the land!" Dared I to marry her--even were she free?--she, a_quadroon_!--I should be hunted from the land, or shut up in one of itsprisons!

All this I knew, but not one straw cared I for it. The world's obloquyin one scale, my love for Aurore in the other--the former weighed but afeather. 

True, I had deep regret that Aurore was a slave, but it sprang not fromthat consideration. Far different was the reason of my regret. _Howwas I to obtain her freedom_? That was the question that troubled me. 

Up to this time I had made light of the matter. Before I knew that Iwas beloved it seemed a sequence very remote. But it was now broughtnearer, and all the faculties of my mind became concentrated on that onethought--"How was I to obtain her freedom?" Had she been an ordinaryslave, the answer would have been easy enough; for though not rich, myfortune was still equal to the _price of a human being_!

In my eyes Aurore was priceless. Would she also appear so in the eyesof her young mistress? Was my bride for sale on any terms? But even ifmoney should be deemed an equivalent, would Mademoiselle _sell_ her to_me_? An odd proposal, that of buying _her_ slave for my wife! Whatwould Eugenie Besancon think of it?

The very idea of this proposal awed me; but the time to make it had notyet arrived. 

I must first have an interview with Aurore, demand a confession of herlove, and then, if she consent to become mine, --_my wife_, --the rest maybe arranged. I see not clearly the way, but a love like mine willtriumph over everything. My passion nerves me with power, with courage, with energy. Obstacles must yield; opposing wills be coaxed or crushed;everything must give way that stands between myself and my love!"Aurore! I come! I come!"

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

A SURPRISE. 

My reflections were interrupted by the neighing of my horse. I glancedforward to ascertain the cause. I was opposite the plantation Besancon. A carriage was just wheeling out from the gate. The horses were headeddown the Levee road, and going off at a trot, were soon lost behind thecloud of dust raised by the hoofs and wheels. 

I recognised the carriage. It was the barouche of MademoiselleBesancon. I could not tell who were its occupants, though, from theslight glimpse I had got of them, I saw there were ladies in it. 

"Mademoiselle herself, accompanied by Aurore, no doubt. "

I believed that they had not observed me, as the high fence concealedall but my head, and the carriage had turned abruptly on passing out ofthe gate. 

I felt disappointed. I had had my ride for nothing, and might now rideback again to Bringiers. 

I had drawn bridle with this intent, when it occurred to me I couldstill overtake the carriage and change words with its occupants. With_her_, even the interchange of a glance was worth such a gallop. 

I laid the spur to the ribs of my horse and sprang him forward. 

As I came opposite the house I saw Scipio by the gate. He was justclosing it after the carriage. 

"Oh!" thought I, "I may as well be sure as to whom I am gallopingafter. "

With this idea I inclined my horse's head a little, and drew up in frontof Scipio. 

"Gollies! how young mass'r ride! Ef he don't do daat business jes up tode hub! Daat 'im do. Wugh!"

Without taking notice of his complimentary speech, I inquired hastily ifMademoiselle was at home. 

"No, mass'r, she jes dis moment gone out--she drive to Mass'r Marigny. "

"Alone?"

"Ye, mass'r. "

"Of course Aurore is with her?"

"No, mass'r; she gone out by harseff. 'Rore, she 'tay at home. "

If the negro had been observant he might have noticed the effect of thisannouncement upon me, for I am sure it must have been sufficientlyapparent. I felt it in the instant upheaving of my heart, and theflushing that suddenly fevered my cheeks. 

"Aurore at home, and alone!"

It was the first time during all the course of my wooing that such a"chance" had offered; and I almost gave expression to my agreeablesurprise. 

Fortunately I did not; for even the faithful Scipio was not to betrusted with such a secret. 

With an effort I collected myself, and tamed down my horse, now chafingto continue his gallop. In doing so his head was turned in thedirection of the village. Scipio thought I was going to ride back. 

"Sure mass'r not go till he rest a bit? Missa 'Genie not home, but daram 'Rore. 'Rore get mass'r glass ob claret; Ole Zip make um sangaree. Day berry, berry hot. Wugh!"

"You are about right, Scipio, " I replied, pretending to yield to hispersuasion. "Take my horse round to the stable. I shall rest a fewminutes. "

I dismounted, and, passing the bridle to Scipio, stepped inside thegate. 

It was about a hundred paces to the house, by the direct walk that ledfrom the gate to the front door. But there were two other paths, thatwound around the sides of the shrubbery, through copses of low trees--laurels, myrtles, and oranges. A person approaching by either of thesecould not be seen from the house until close to the very windows. Fromeach of these paths the low verandah could be reached without going bythe front. There were steps leading into it--into the interior of thehouse as well--for the windows that fronted upon the verandah were, after the Creole fashion, glass folding-doors, that opened to thebottom, so that the floors of the rooms and verandah-platform were uponthe same level. 

On passing through the gate, I turned into one of these side-paths (forcertain reasons giving it the preference), and walked silently ontowards the house. 

I had taken the longer way, and advanced slowly for the purpose ofcomposing myself. I could hear the beating of my own heart, and feelits quick nervous throbs, quicker than my steps, as I approached thelong-desired interview. I believe I should have been more collected ingoing up to the muzzle of an antagonist's pistol!

The long yearning for such an opportunity--the well-known difficulty ofobtaining it--the anticipation of that sweetest pleasure on earth--thepleasure of being alone with her I loved--all blended in my thoughts. No wonder they were wild and somewhat bewildered. 

I should now meet Aurore face to face alone, with but Love's god as awitness. I should speak unrestrainedly and free. I should hear _her_voice, listen to the soft confession that she loved me. I should foldher in my arms--against my bosom! I should drink love from her swimmingeyes, taste it on her crimson cheek, her coral lips! Oh, I should speaklove, and hear it spoken! I should listen to its delirious ravings!

A heaven of happiness was before me. No wonder my thoughts were wild--no wonder I vainly strove to calm them. 

I reached the house, and mounted the two or three steps that led up intothe verandah. The latter was carpeted with a mat of sea-grass, and my_chaussure_ was light, so that my tread was as silent as that of a girl. It could scarce have been heard within the chamber whose windows I waspassing. 

I proceeded on toward the drawing-room, which opened to the front by twoof the large door-windows already mentioned. I turned the angle, andthe next moment would have passed the first of these windows, had asound not reached me that caused me to arrest my steps. The sound was avoice that came from the drawing-room, whose windows stood open. Ilistened--it was the voice of Aurore!

"In conversation with some one! with whom? Perhaps little Chloe? hermother? some one of the domestics?"

I listened. 

"By Heaven! it is the voice of a man! Who can he be? Scipio? No;Scipio cannot yet have left the stable. It cannot be he. Some other ofthe plantation people? Jules, the wood-chopper? the errand-boy, Baptiste? Ha! it is not a negro's voice. No, it is the voice of awhite man! the overseer?"

As this idea came into my head, a pang at the same time shot through myheart--a pang, not of jealousy, but something like it. I was angry at_him_ rather than jealous with _her_. As yet I had heard nothing tomake me jealous. His being present with her, and in conversation, wasno cause. 

"So, my bold nigger-driver, " thought I, "you have got over yourpredilection for the little Chloe. Not to be wondered at! Who wouldwaste time gazing at stars when there is such a moon in the sky? Brutethat you are, you are not blind. I see you, too, have an eye toopportunities, and know when to enter the drawing-room. "

"Hush!"

Again I listened. When I had first halted, it was through motives ofdelicacy. I did not wish to appear too suddenly before the open window, which would have given me a full view of the interior of the apartment. I had paused, intending to herald my approach by some noise--a feignedcough, or a stroke of my foot against the floor. My motives hadundergone a change. I now listened with a design. I could not help it. 

Aurore was speaking. 

I bent my ear close to the window. The voice was at too great adistance, or uttered too low, for me to hear what was said. I couldhear the silvery tones, but could not distinguish the words. She mustbe at the further end of the room, thought I. _Perhaps, upon the sofa_. This conjecture led me to painful imaginings, till the throbbings of myheart drowned the murmur that was causing them. 

At length Aurore's speech was ended. I waited for the reply. Perhaps Imight gather from that what _she_ had said. The tones of the male voicewould be loud enough to enable me--

Hush! hark!

I listened--I caught the sound of a voice, but not the words. The soundwas enough. It caused me to start as if stung by an adder. _It was thevoice of Monsieur Dominique Gayarre_!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

A RIVAL. 

I cannot describe the effect produced upon me by this discovery. It waslike a shock of paralysis. It nailed me to the spot, and for somemoments I felt as rigid as a statue, and almost as senseless. Even hadthe words uttered by Gayarre been loud enough to reach me, I shouldscarce have heard them. My surprise for the moment had rendered medeaf. 

The antagonism I had conceived towards the speaker, so long as Ibelieved it to be the brute Larkin, was of a gentle character comparedwith that which agitated me now. Larkin might be young and handsome; byScipio's account, the latter he certainly was _not_: but even so, I hadlittle fear of _his_ rivalry. I felt confident that I held the heart ofAurore, and I knew that the overseer had no power over _her person_. Hewas overseer of the field-hands, and other slaves of the plantation--their master, with full licence of tongue and lash; but with all that, Iknew that he had no authority over Aurore. For reasons I could notfathom, the treatment of the quadroon was, and had always been, different from the other slaves of the plantation. It was not thewhiteness of her skin--her beauty neither--that had gained her thisdistinction. These, it is true, often modify the hard lot of the femaleslave, sometimes detailing upon her a still more cruel fate; but in thecase of Aurore, there was some very different reason for the kindnessshown her, though _I_ could only _guess_ at it. She had been tenderlyreared alongside her young mistress, had received almost as good aneducation, and, in fact, was treated rather as a _sister_ than a_slave_. Except from Mademoiselle, she received no commands. The"nigger-driver" had nothing to do with her. I had therefore no dread ofany unlawful influence on his part. 

Far different were my suspicions when I found the voice belonged toGayarre. _He_ had power not only over the slave, but the mistress aswell. Though suitor, --as I still believed him, --of Mademoiselle, hecould not be blind to the superior charms of Aurore. Hideous wretch asI thought him, he might for all be sensible to love. The plainest mayhave a passion for the fairest. The Beast loved Beauty. 

The hour he had chosen for his visit, too! that was suspicious ofitself. Just as Mademoiselle had driven out! Had he been there beforeshe went out and been left by her in the house? Not likely. Scipioknow nothing of his being there, else he would have told me. The blackwas aware of my antipathy to Gayarre, and that I did not desire to meethim. He would certainly have told me. 

"No doubt, " thought I, "the visit is a stolen one--the lawyer has comethe back way from his own plantation, has watched till the carriagedrove off, and then skulked in for the very purpose of finding thequadroon alone!"

All this flashed upon my mind with the force of conviction, I no longerdoubted that his presence there was the result of design, and not a mereaccident. He was _after_ Aurore. My thoughts took this homely shape. 

When the first shock of my surprise had passed away, my senses returned, fuller and more vigorous than ever. My nerves seemed freshly strung, and my ears new set. I placed them as close to the open window asprudence would allow, and listened. It was not _honourable_, I own, butin dealing with this wretch I seemed to lose all sense of honour. Bythe peculiar circumstances of that moment I was tempted from the strictpath, but it was the "eavesdropping" of a jealous lover, and I cry youmercy for the act. 

I listened. With an effort I stifled the feverish throbbings of myheart, and listened. 

And I heard every word that from that moment was said. The voices hadbecome louder, or rather the speakers had approached nearer. They werebut a few feet from the window! Gayarre was speaking. 

"And does this young fellow dare to make love to your mistress?"

"Monsieur Dominique, how should I know? I am sure I never saw aught ofthe kind. He is very modest, and so Mademoiselle thinks him. I neverknew him to speak one word of love, --not he. "

I fancied I heard a sigh. 

"If he dare, " rejoined Gayarre in a tone of bravado; "if he dare hint atsuch a thing to Mademoiselle--ay, or _even to you_, Aurore--I shall makethe place too hot for him. He shall visit here no more, the nakedadventurer! On that I am resolved. "

"Oh, Monsieur Gayarre! I'm sure that would vex Mademoiselle very much. Remember! he saved her life. She is full of gratitude to him. Shecontinually talks of it, and it would grieve her if Monsieur Edouard wasto come no more. I am sure it would grieve her. "

There was an earnestness, a half-entreaty, in the tone of the speakerthat sounded pleasant to my ears. It suggested the idea that _she, too, might be grieved_ if Monsieur Edouard were to come no more. 

A like thought seemed to occur to Gayarre, upon whom, however, it made avery different sort of impression. There was irony mixed with anger inhis reply, which was half interrogative. 

"Perhaps it would grieve _some one else_? Perhaps you? All, indeed!Is it so? You love him? _Sacr-r-r-r_!"

There was a hissing emphasis upon the concluding word, that expressedanger and pain, --the pain of bitter jealousy. 

"Oh monsieur!" replied the quadroon, "how can you speak thus? _I_ love!I, --a poor slave! Alas! alas!"

Neither the tone nor substance of this speech exactly pleased me. Ifelt a hope, however, that it was but one of the little stratagems oflove: a species of deceit I could easily pardon. It seemed to produce apleasant effect on Gayarre, for all at once his voice changed to alighter and gayer tone. 

"You a _slave_, beautiful Aurore! No, in my eyes you are a _queen_, Aurore. Slave! It is your fault if you remain so. You know who hasthe power to make you free: ay, and the will too, --the will, --Aurore!"

"Please not to talk thus, Monsieur Dominique! I have said before Icannot listen to such speech. I repeat I cannot, and _will_ not!"

The firm tone was grateful to my ears. 

"Nay, lovely Aurore!" replied Gayarre, entreatingly, "don't be angrywith me! I cannot help it. I cannot help thinking of your welfare. You _shall_ be free;--no longer the slave of a capricious mistress--"

"Monsieur Gayarre!" exclaimed the quadroon, interrupting him, "speak notso of Mademoiselle! You wrong her, Monsieur. She is not capricious. What if she heard--"

"_Peste_!" cried Gayarre, interrupting in his turn, and again assuminghis tone of bravado. "What care I if she did? Think you I trouble myhead about her? The world thinks so! ha! ha! ha! Let them!--the fools!ha! ha! One day they may find it different! ha! ha! They think myvisits here are on _her_ account! ha! ha! ha! No, Aurore, --lovelyAurore! it is not Mademoiselle I come to see, but _you_, --you, Aurore, --whom I _love_, --ay, love with all--"

"Monsieur Dominique! I repeat--"

"Dearest Aurore! say you will but love me; say but the word! Oh, speakit! you shall be no longer a slave, --you shall be free as your mistressis;--you shall have everything, --every pleasure, --dresses, jewels, atwill; my house shall be under your control, --you shall command in it, _as if you were my wife_. "

"Enough, Monsieur! enough! Your insult--I hear no more!"

The voice was firm and indignant. Hurrah!

"Nay, dearest, loveliest Aurore! do not go yet, --hear me--"

"I hear no more, Sir, --Mademoiselle shall know--"

"A word, a word! one kiss, Aurore! on my knees, I beg--"

I heard the knocking of a pair of knees on the floor, followed by astruggling sound, and loud angry exclamations on the part of Aurore. 

This I considered to be my cue, and three steps brought me within theroom, and within as many feet of the kneeling gallant. The wretch wasactually on his "marrow-bones, " holding the girl by the wrist, andendeavouring to draw her towards him. She, on the contrary, wasexerting all her women's strength to get away; which, not being soinconsiderable, resulted in the ludicrous spectacle of the kneelingsuitor being dragged somewhat rapidly across the carpet!

His back was toward me as I entered, and the first intimation he had ofmy presence was a boisterous laugh, which for the life of me I could notrestrain. It lasted until long after he had released his captive, andgathered his limbs into an upright position; and, indeed, so loud did itsound in my own ears, that I did not hear the threats of vengeance hewas muttering in return. 

"What business have _you_ here, Sir?" was his first intelligiblequestion. 

"I need not ask the same of you, Monsieur Dominique Gayarre. _Your_business I can tell well enough ha! ha! ha!"

"I ask you, Sir, " he repeated, in a still angrier tone, "what's yourbusiness here?"

"I did not come here on _business_, Monsieur, " said I, still keeping upthe tone of levity. "I did not come here on business, _any more thanyourself_. "

The emphasis on the last words seemed to render him furious. 

"The sooner you go the better, then, " he shouted, with a bullying frown. 

"For whom?" I inquired. 

"For yourself, Sir, " was the reply. 

I had now also lost temper, though not altogether command of myself. 

"Monsieur, " said I, advancing and confronting him, "I have yet to learnthat the house of Mademoiselle Besancon is the property of MonsieurDominique Gayarre. If it were so, I would be less disposed to respectthe sanctity of its roof. You, Sir, have not respected it. You haveacted infamously towards this young girl--this young _lady_, for shemerits the title as much as the best blood in your land. I havewitnessed your dastardly conduct, and heard your insulting proposals--"

Here Gayarre started, but said nothing. I continued--

"You are not a gentleman, Sir; and therefore not worthy to stand beforemy pistol. The owner of this house is not at home. At present it is asmuch mine as yours; and I promise you, that if you are not out of it inten seconds you shall have my whip laid with severity upon yourshoulders. "

I said all this in a tone sufficiently moderate, and in cool blood. Gayarre must have seen that I meant it, for I _did_ mean it. 

"You shall pay dearly for this, " he hissed out. "You shall find thatthis is not the country for a _spy_. "

"Go, Sir!"

"And you, my fine pattern of quadroon virtue, " he added, bending amalicious glance upon Aurore, "there may come a day when you'll be lessprudish: a day when you'll not find such a gallant protector. "

"Another word, and--"

The uplifted whip would have fallen on his shoulders. He did not waitfor that, but gliding through the door, shuffled off over the verandah. 

I stopped outside to make sure that he was gone. Advancing to the endof the platform I looked over the paling. The chattering of the birdstold me that some one was passing through the shrubbery. 

I watched till I saw the gate open. I could just distinguish a headabove the palings moving along the road. I easily recognised it as thatof the disappointed seducer. 

As I turned back, towards the drawing-room I forgot that such a creatureexisted!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

AN HOUR OF BLISS. 

Sweet is gratitude under any circumstances; how much sweeter whenexpressed in the eyes and uttered by the lips of those we love!

I re-entered the room, my heart swelling with delightful emotions. Gratitude was poured forth in, lavish yet graceful expressions. BeforeI could utter a word, or stretch out a hand to hinder, the beautifulgirl had glided across the room, and fallen into a kneeling posture atmy feet! Her thanks came from her heart. 

"Rise, lovely Aurore!" said I, taking her unresisting hand, and leadingher to a seat. "What I have done is scarce worth thanks like thine. Who would have acted otherwise?"

"Ah, Monsieur!--many, many. You know not this land. There are few toprotect the poor slave. The chivalry, so much boasted here, extends notto _us_. We, in whose veins runs the accursed blood, are beyond thepale both of honour and protection. Ah me, noble stranger! you know notfor how much I am your debtor!"

"Call me not _stranger_, Aurore. It is true we have had but slightopportunity of conversing, but our acquaintance is old enough to renderthat title no longer applicable. I would you would speak to me by onemore _endearing_. "

"Endearing! Monsieur, I do not understand you!"

Her large brown eyes were fixed upon me in a gaze of wonder, but theyalso interrogated me. 

"Yes, endearing--I mean, Aurore--that you will not shun me--that youwill give me your confidence--that you will regard me as a friend--a--a--brother. "

"You, Monsieur! you as my brother--a white--a gentleman, high-born andeducated! I--I--oh Heavens! what am I? A slave--a slave--whom men loveonly to _ruin_. O God!--why is my destiny so hard? O God!"

"Aurore!" I cried, gathering courage from her agony, "Aurore, listen tome! to me, your friend, your--"

She removed her hands that had been clasped across her face, and lookedup. Her swimming eyes were bent steadfastly upon mine, and regarded mewith a look of interrogation. 

At that moment a train of thought crossed my mind. In words it wasthus: "How long may we be alone? We may be interrupted? So fair anopportunity may not offer again. There is no time to waste in idleconverse. I must at once to the object of my visit. "

"Aurore!" I said, "it is the first time we have met alone. I havelonged for this interview. I have a word that can only be spoken to youalone. "

"To me alone, Monsieur! What is it?"

"_Aurore, I love you_!"

"Love _me_! Oh, Monsieur, it is not possible!"

"Ah! more than possible--it is _true_. Listen, Aurore! From the firsthour I beheld you--I might almost say before that hour, for you were inmy heart before I was conscious of having seen you--from, that firsthour I loved you--not with a villain's love, such as you have thismoment spurned, but with a pure and honest passion. And passion I maywell call it, for it absorbs every other feeling of my soul. Morningand night, Aurore, I think but of you. You are in my dreams, andequally the companion of my waking hours. Do not fancy my love so calm, because I am now speaking so calmly about it. Circumstances render meso. I have approached you with a determined purpose--one long resolvedupon--and that, perhaps, gives me this firmness in declaring my love. Ihave said, Aurore, that I love you. I repeat it again--_with my heartand soul, I love you_!"

"Love _me_! poor girl!"

There was something so ambiguous in the utterance of the last phrase, that I paused a moment in my reply. It seemed as though the sympatheticinterjection had been meant for some third person rather than herself!

"Aurore, " I continued, after a pause, "I have told you all. I have beencandid. I only ask equal candour in return. _Do you love me_?"

I should have put this question less calmly, but that I felt alreadyhalf-assured of the answer. 

We were seated on the sofa, and near each other. Before I had finishedspeaking, I felt her soft fingers touch mine--close upon them, and pressthem gently together. When the question was delivered, her head fellforward on my breast, and I heard murmuring from her lips the simplewords--"_I too from the first hour_!"

My arms, hitherto restrained, were now twined around the yielding form, and for some moments neither uttered a word. Love's paroxysm is bestenjoyed in silence. The wild intoxicating kiss, the deep mutual glance, the pressure of hands and arms and burning lips, all these need notongue to make them intelligible. For long moments ejaculations ofdelight, phrases of tender endearment, were the only words that escapedus. We were too happy to converse. Our lips paid respect to thesolemnity of our hearts. 

It was neither the place nor time for Love to go blind, and prudencesoon recalled me to myself. There was still much to be said, and manyplans to be discussed before our new-sprung happiness should be securedto us. Both were aware of the abyss that still yawned between us. Bothwere aware that a thorny path must be trodden before we could reach theelysium of our hopes. Notwithstanding our present bliss, the future wasdark and dangerous; and the thought of this soon startled us from ourshort sweet dream. 

Aurora had no longer any _fear_ of my love. She did not even wrong mewith suspicion. She doubted not my purpose to make her my _wife_. Loveand gratitude stifled every doubt, and we now conversed with a mutualconfidence which years of friendship could scarce have established. 

But we talked with hurried words. We knew not the moment we might beinterrupted. We knew not when again we might meet alone. We had needto be brief. 

I explained to her my circumstances--that in a few days I expected a sumof money--enough, I believed, for the purpose. What purpose? _Thepurchase of my bride_!

"Then, " added I, "nothing remains but to get married, Aurore!"

"Alas!" replied she with a sigh, "even were I free, we could not bemarried _here_. Is it not a wicked law that persecutes us even whenpretending to give us freedom?"

I assented. 

"We could not get married, " she continued, evidently suffering underpainful emotion, "we could not unless you could swear there was Africanblood in your veins! Only think of such a law in a Christian land!"

"Think _not_ of it, Aurore, " said I, wishing to cheer her. "There shallbe no difficulty about swearing that. I shall take this gold pin fromyour hair, open this beautiful blue vein in your arm, drink from it, andtake the oath!"

The quadroon smiled, but the moment after her look of sadness returned. 

"Come, dearest Aurore! chase away such thoughts! What care we to bemarried here? We shall go elsewhere. There are lands as fair asLouisiana, and churches as fine as Saint Gabriel to be married in. Weshall go northward--to England--to France--anywhere. Let not thatgrieve you!"

"It is not that which grieves me. "

"What then, dearest?"

"Oh! It is--I fear--"

"Tear not to tell me. "

"That you will not be able--"

"Declare it, Aurore. "

"To become _my master_--_to_--_to buy me_!"

Here the poor girl hung her head, as if ashamed to speak of suchconditions. I saw the hot tears springing from her eyes. 

"And why do you fear. " I inquired. 

"Others have tried. Large sums they offered--larger even than that youhave named, and they could not. They failed in their intentions, andoh! how grateful was I to Mademoiselle! That was my only protection. She would not part with me. How glad was I then! but now--now howdifferent!--the very opposite!"

"But I shall give more--my whole fortune. Surely that will suffice. The offers you speak of were infamous proposals, like that of MonsieurGayarre. Mademoiselle knew it; she was too good to accept them. "

"That is true, but she will equally refuse yours. I fear it, alas!alas!"

"Nay, I shall confess all to Mademoiselle. I shall declare to her myhonourable design. I shall implore her consent. Surely she will notrefuse. Surely she feels gratitude--"

"Oh, Monsieur!" cried Aurore, interrupting me, "she _is_ grateful--youknow not how grateful; but never, never will she--You know not all--alas! alas!"

With a fresh burst of tears filling her eyes, the beautiful girl sankdown on the sofa, hiding her face under the folds of her luxuriant hair. 

I was puzzled by these expressions, and about to ask for an explanation, when the noise of carriage-wheels fell upon my ear. I sprang forward tothe open window, and looked over the tops of the orange-trees. I couldjust see the head of a man, whom I recognised as the coachman ofMademoiselle Besancon. The carriage was approaching the gate. 

In the then tumult of my feelings I could not trust myself to meet thelady, and, bidding a hurried adieu to Aurore, I rushed from theapartment. 

When outside I saw that, if I went by the front gate I should risk anencounter. I knew there was a small side-wicket that led to thestables, and a road ran thence to the woods. This would carry me toBringiers by a back way, and stepping off from the verandah, I passedthrough the wicket, and directed myself towards the stables in the rear. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

THE "NIGGER QUARTER. "

I soon reached the stables, where I was welcomed by a low whimper frommy horse. Scipio was not there. 

"He is gone upon some other business, " thought I; "perhaps to meet thecarriage. No matter, I shall not summon him. The saddle is on, and Ican bridle the steed myself--only poor Scipio loses his quarter-dollar. "

I soon had my steed bitted and bridled; and, leading the animal outside, I sprang into the saddle, and rode off. 

The path I was taking led past the "negro quarters, " and then throughsome fields to the dark cypress and tupelo woods in the rear. Fromthese led a cross-way that would bring me out again upon the Levee road. I had travelled this path many a time, and knew it well enough. 

The "nigger quarter" was distant some two hundred yards from the "grandemaison, " or "big house, " of the plantation. It consisted of some fiftyor sixty little "cabins, " neatly built, and standing in a double row, with a broad way between. Each cabin was a facsimile of its neighbour, and in front of each grew a magnolia or a beautiful China-tree, underthe shade of whose green leaves and sweet-scented flowers little negroesmight be seen all the livelong day, disporting their bodies in the dust. These, of all sizes, from the "piccaninny" to the "good-sized chunk ofa boy, " and of every shade of slave-colour, from the fair-skinnedquadroon to the black Bambarra, on whom, by an American witticism ofdoubtful truthfulness; "charcoal would make a white mark!" Divestingthem of dust, you would have no difficulty in determining theircomplexion. Their little plump bodies were nude, from the top of theirwoolly heads to their long projecting heels. There roll they, black andyellow urchins, all the day, playing with pieces of sugar-cane, ormelon-rind, or corn-cobs--cheerful and happy as any little lords couldbe in their well-carpeted nurseries in the midst of the costliest toysof the German bazaar!

On entering the negro quarter, you cannot fail to observe tall papawpoles or cane-reeds stuck up in front of many of the cabins, andcarrying upon their tops large, yellow gourd-shells, each perforatedwith a hole in the side. These are the dwellings of the purple martin, (_Hirundo purpurea_)--the most beautiful of American swallows, and agreat favourite among the simple negroes, as it had been, long beforetheir time, among the red aborigines of the soil. You will notice, too, hanging in festoons along the walls of the cabins, strings of red andgreen pepper-pods (species of capsicum); and here and there a bunch ofsome dried herb of medicinal virtue, belonging to the negro_pharmacopoeia_. All these are the property of "aunt Phoebe, " or "auntyCleopatra, " or "ole aunt Phillis;" and the delicious "pepper pot" thatany one of those "aunts" can make out of the aforesaid green and redcapsicums, assisted by a few other ingredients from the little garden"patch" in the rear of the cabin, would bring water to the teeth of anepicure. 

Perhaps on the cabin walls you will see suspended representatives of theanimal kingdom--perhaps the skin of a rabbit, a raccoon, an opossum, orthe grey fox--perhaps also that of the musk-rat (_Fiber zibethicus_), or, rarer still, the swamp wild-cat (bay lynx--_Lynx rufus_). The ownerof the cabin upon which hangs the lynx-skin will be the Nimrod of thehour, for the cat is among the rarest and noblest game of theMississippi _fauna_. The skin of the panther (_cougar_) or deer youwill not see, for although both inhabit the neighbouring forest, theyare too high game for the negro hunter, who is not permitted the use ofa gun. The smaller "varmints" already enumerated can be capturedwithout such aid, and the pelts you see hanging upon the cabins are theproduce of many a moonlight hunt undertaken by "Caesar, " or "Scipio, " or"Hannibal, " or "Pompey. " Judging by the nomenclature of the negroquarter, you might fancy yourself in ancient Rome or Carthage!

The great men above-named, however, are never trusted with such adangerous weapon as a rifle. To their _skill_ alone do they owe theirsuccess in the chase; and their weapons are only a stick, an axe, and a"'coon-dog" of mongrel race. Several of these last you may see rollingabout in the dust among the "piccaninnies, " and apparently as happy asthey. But the hunting trophies that adorn the walls do not hang thereas mere ornaments. No, they are spread out to dry, and will soon giveplace to others--for there is a constant export going on. When uncleCeez, or Zip, or Hanny, or Pomp, get on their Sunday finery, and repairto the village, each carries with him his stock of small pelts. Therethe storekeeper has a talk with them, and a "pic" (picayune) for the"mussrat, " a "bit" (Spanish real) for the "'coon, " and a "quarter" forthe fox or "cat, " enable these four avuncular hunters to lay in a greatvariety of small luxuries for the four "aunties" at home; which littlecomforts are most likely excluded from the regular rice-and-pork rationsof the plantation. 

So much is a little bit of the domestic economy of the negro quarter. 

On entering the little village, --for the negro quarter of a grandplantation merits the title, --you cannot fail to observe all of theselittle matters. They are the salient points of the picture. 

You will observe, too, the house of the "overseer" standing apart; or, as in the case of the plantation Besancon, at the end of the double row, and fronting the main avenue. This, of course, is of a more pretentiousstyle of architecture; can boast of Venetian blinds to the windows, twostories of height, and a "porch. " It is enclosed with a paling to keepoff the intrusion of the children, but the dread of the painted cowhiderenders the paling almost superfluous. 

As I approached the "quarter, " I was struck with the peculiar characterof the picture it presented, --the overseer's house towering above thehumbler cabins, seeming to protect and watch over them, suggesting thesimilarity of a hen with her brood of chickens. 

Here and there the great purple swallows boldly cleft the air, or, poised on wing by the entrance of their gourd-shell dwellings, utteredtheir cheerful "tweet--tweet--tweet;" while the fragrant odour of theChina-trees and magnolias scented the atmosphere to a long distancearound. 

When nearer still, I could distinguish the hum of human voices--of men, women, and children--in that peculiar tone which characterises the voiceof the African. I fancied the little community as I had before seenit--the men and women engaged in various occupations--some resting fromtheir labour, (for it was now after field hours, ) seated in front oftheir tent-like cabins, under the shade-tree, or standing in littlegroups gaily chatting with each other--some by the door mending theirfishing-nets and tackle, by which they intended to capture the great"cat" and "buffalo fish" of the bayous--some "chopping" firewood at thecommon "wood-pile, " which half-grown urchins were "toating, " to thecabins, so that "aunty" might prepare the evening-meal. 

I was musing on the patriarchal character of such a picture, half-inclined towards the "one-man power"--if not in the shape of aslaveholder, yet something after the style of Rapp and his "socialeconomists. "

"What a saving of state machinery, " soliloquised I, "in this patriarchalform! How charmingly simple! and yet how complete and efficient!"

Just so, but I had overlooked one thing, and that was the imperfectnessof human nature--the possibility--the probability--nay, the almostcertainty, that the _patriarch_ will pass into the _tyrant_. 

Hark! a voice louder than common! It is a cry!

Of cheerful import? No--on the contrary, it sounds like the utteranceof some one in pain. It is a cry of agony! The murmur of other voices, too, heard at short intervals, carries to my ear that deep portentoussound which accompanies some unnatural occurrence. 

Again I hear the cry of agony--deeper and louder than before! It comesfrom the direction of the negro quarter. What is causing it?

I gave the spur to my horse, and galloped in the direction of thecabins. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. 

THE DEVIL'S DOUCHE. 

In a few seconds I entered the wide avenue between the cabins, anddrawing bridle, sat glancing around me. 

My patriarchal dreams vanished at the sight that met my eyes. Before mewas a scene of tyranny, of torture--a scene from the tragedy ofslave-life!

At the upper end of the quarter, and on one side of the overseer'shouse, was an enclosure. It was the enclosure of the sugar-mill--alarge building which stood a little further back. Inside the fence wasa tall pump, rising full ten feet in height, with the spout near itstop. The purpose of this pump was to yield a stream of water, which wasconducted to the sugar-house by means of a slender trough, that servedas an aqueduct. 

A platform was raised a few feet above the ground, so as to enable theperson working the pump to reach its handle. 

To this spot my attention was directed by seeing that the negroes of thequarter were grouped around it, while the women and children, clingingalong the fence, had their eyes bent in the same direction. 

The faces of all--men, women, and children--wore an ominous and gloomyexpression; and the attitudes in which they stood betokened terror andalarm. Murmurs I could hear--now and then ejaculations--and sobs thatbespoke sympathy with some one who suffered. I saw scowling brows, asif knit by thoughts of vengeance. But these last were few--the moregeneral expression was one of terror and submission. 

It was not difficult to tell that the cry I had heard proceeded from theneighbourhood of the pump, and a glance unfolded the cause. Some poorslave was undergoing punishment!

A group of negroes hid the unfortunate from my view, but over theirheads I could see the slave Gabriel, his body naked to the breech, mounted upon the platform and working the pump with all his might. 

This Gabriel was a Bambarra negro, of huge size and strength, branded onboth shoulders with the _fleur-de-lis_. He was a man of fierce aspect, and, as I had heard, of fierce and brutal habit--feared not only by theother negroes, but by the whites with whom he came in contact. It wasnot he that was undergoing punishment. On the contrary, he was theinstrument of torture. 

And torture it was--I knew the punishment well. 

The trough or aqueduct had been removed; and the victim was placed atthe bottom of the pump, directly under the spout. He was fast bound ina species of stocks; and in such a position that he could not move hishead, which _received the continuous jet in the very centre of thecrown_!

Torture? No doubt, you are incredulous? You fancy there can be nogreat torture in that. A simple shock--a shower-bath--nothing more!

You are right. For the first half-minute or so it is but a shock, ashower-bath, but then--

Believe me when I declare to you--that a stream of molten lead--an axecontinually crashing through the skull--would not be more painful thanthe falling of this cold-water jet! It is torture beyond endurance--agony indescribable. Well may it be called the "devil's douche. "

Again the agonised cry came from the pump, almost curdling my blood. 

As I have said, I could not see the sufferer at first. A row of bodieswas interposed between him and me. The negroes, however, seeing me rideup, eagerly opened their ranks and fell back a pace, as if desiring Ishould be a witness to what was going forward. They all knew me, andall had some impression that I _sympathised_ with their unfortunaterace. 

This opening gave me a full view of the horrid spectacle, disclosing agroup that made me start in the saddle. Under the torture was thevictim--a man of sable hue. Close by him, a large mulatto woman and ayoung girl of the same complexion--mother and daughter--stood folded ineach other's arms, both weeping bitterly. I could hear their sobs andejaculations, even at the distance of a score of yards, and above theplashing sound of the falling water. I recognised at a glance who thesewere--they were the little Chloe and her mother!

Quick as lightning my eyes were directed towards the sufferer. Thewater, as it bounded from his crown, spread into a glassy sheet, thatcompletely concealed his head, but the huge, fin-like, projecting earstold me who was the victim. It was Scipio!

Again his cry of agony pealed upon my ears, deep and prolonged, asthough it issued from the innermost recesses of his soul!

I did not wait till that cry was ended. A fence of six rails separatedme from the sufferer; but what of that? I did not hesitate a moment, but winding my horse round to give him the run, I headed him at theleap, and with a touch of the spur lifted him into the inclosure. I didnot even stay to dismount, but galloping up to the platform, laid mywhip across the naked shoulders of the Bambarra with all the force thatlay in my arm. The astonished savage dropped the pump-handle as if ithad been iron at a white heat; and leaping from the platform, ran offhowling to his cabin!

Exclamations and loud murmurings of applause followed; but my horse, brought so suddenly to this exciting work, snorted and plunged, and itwas some time before I could quiet him. While thus engaged, I observedthat the exclamations were suddenly discontinued; and the murmurs ofapplause were succeeded by a dead, ominous silence! I could hearseveral of the negroes nearest me muttering some words of caution, asthough meant for me; among others the cry of--

"De oberseer! de oberseer! Look out, mass'r! Dar he kum!"

At that moment an abominable oath, uttered in a loud voice, reached myears. I looked in the direction whence it came. As I anticipated, itwas the overseer. 

He was just issuing from the back-door of his house, from a window ofwhich he had been all the while a spectator of Scipio's torture!

I had not come in contact with this person before; and I now sawapproaching a man of fierce and brutal aspect, somewhat flashilydressed, and carrying in his hand a thick waggon-whip. I could see thathis face was livid with rage, and that he was directing himself toattack me. I had no weapon but my riding-whip, and with this I preparedto receive his assault. 

He came on at a run, all the while venting the most diabolical curses. 

When he had got nearly up to my horse's head, he stopped a moment, andthundered out--

"Who the Hell are you, meddling with my affairs? Who the damn are--"

He suddenly paused in his speech, and stood staring in astonishment. Ireciprocated that astonishment, for I had now recognised in the brutaloverseer my antagonist of the boat! the hero of the bowie-knife! At thesame instant he recognised me. 

The pause which was the result of our mutual surprise, lasted but amoment. 

"Hell and furies!" cried the ruffian, changing his former tone only intoone more horribly furious--

"It's _you_, is it? Whip be damned! I've something else for _you_. "

And as he said this he drew a pistol from his coat, and hastily cockingit, aimed it at my breast. 

I was still on horseback and in motion, else he would no doubt havedelivered his fire at once; but my horse reared up at the gleam of thepistol, and his body was thus interposed between mine and its muzzle. 

As I have said, I had no weapon but the whip. Fortunately it was astout hunting-whip, with loaded butt. I hastily turned it in my hand, and just as the hoofs of my horse came back to the earth, I drove thespur so deeply into his ribs that he sprang forward more than his ownlength. This placed me in the very spot I wanted to be--alongside myruffian antagonist, who, taken aback by my sudden change of position, hesitated a moment before taking fresh aim. Before he could pulltrigger, the butt of my whip descended upon his skull, and doubled himup in the dust! His pistol went off as he fell, and the bullet ploughedup the ground between my horse's hoofs, but fortunately hit no one. Theweapon itself new out of his hand, and lay beside him where he hadfallen. 

It was a mere lucky hit--all owing to the spur being touched, and myhorse having sprung forward in good time. Had I missed the blow, Ishould not likely have had a second chance. The pistol wasdouble-barrelled, and on examination I found he carried another of asimilar kind. 

He was now lying as still as if asleep, and I began to fear I had killedhim. This would have been a serious matter. Although perfectlyjustifiable in me to have done so, who was to show that? The evidenceof those around me--the whole of them together--was not worth theasseveration of one white man; and under the circumstances not worth astraw. Indeed, considering what had immediately led to the rencontre, such testimony would have been more likely to _damage_ my case thanotherwise! I felt myself in an awkward situation. 

I now dismounted, and approached the prostrate form, around which theblacks were congregating. They made way for me. 

I knelt down and examined the head. It was cut and bleeding, but theskull was still sound!

The knowledge of this fact set my mind at rest, and before I rose to myfeet I had the satisfaction to see that the fellow was coming to hissenses, under the influence of a douche of cold-water. The butt of thesecond pistol came under my eye, as it stuck out from the breast of hiscoat. I drew it forth, and along with its fellow took them into my ownkeeping. 

"Tell him, " said I, "as soon as he comes to himself, that when he nextattacks me, I shall have pistols as well as he!"

Having ordered him to be carried into the house, I now turned myattention to his victim. Poor Scipio! he had been most cruellytortured, and it was some time before he recovered his faculties, so asto be able to tell me why he had been thus punished. 

The relation he at length gave, and it made the blood boil afresh withinmy veins. He had surprised the overseer in some of the outbuildingswith little Chloe in his arms, the child crying out and struggling toget free. Natural indignation on the part of the father led to a blow--an offence for which Scipio might have lost an arm; but the whitewretch, knowing that he dare not, for his own sake, expose the motive, had commuted Scipio's legal punishment to a little private torture underthe pump!

My first impulse on hearing this sad story was to return to the house, report what had occurred to Mademoiselle, and urge upon her thenecessity of getting rid of this savage overseer at all risk. 

After a little reflection I changed my mind. I purposed to return uponthe morrow, on business of--to me--much greater importance. To-morrowit was my intention to _bid for Aurore_!

"I can then, " thought I, "introduce the case of poor Scipio. Perhaps itmay be an introduction to the `graver theme?'"

Having promised this much to my old attendant, I mounted my horse, androde off, amidst a shower of blessings. 

As I passed through the avenue at a walk, women and half-grown girlshurried from their doors, and kissed my feet as they hung in thestirrups!

The burning love which so late filled my heart was for a moment unfelt. Its place was occupied by a calm, sweet happiness--the happiness thatsprings from benefaction!

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. 

GAYARRE AND "BULLY BILL. "

On riding out from the quarter I changed my intention of taking the backroad. My visit would no doubt become known to Mademoiselle, and itdiffered not if I should now be seen from the house. My blood was up--so was that of my horse. A rail-fence was nothing to either of us now;so heading round, I cleared a couple of palings; and then strikingacross a cotton-field arrived once more on the Levee road. 

After a while, as soon as I had cooled down my horse, I rode slowly, reflecting upon what had just happened. 

It was evident that this ruffian had been put upon the plantation byGayarre for some secret purpose. Whether he and the lawyer had hadprevious acquaintance I could not guess; but such men have a sort ofinstinctive knowledge of one another, and he might be only a waif thatthe latter had picked up since the night of the wreck. On the boat Ihad supposed him to be some rough gambler, by the propensity heexhibited for betting; and possibly he might have been playing that_role_ of late. It was evident, however, that "negro-driving" was histrade; at all events it was not new to him. 

Strange that he had been all this time on the plantation without knowingof me! But that could be easily accounted for. He had never seen meduring my stay at the house. Moreover, he may have been ignorant thatMademoiselle was the lady with whom he intended to have shared thelife-preserver. This last hypothesis was probable enough, for therewere other ladies who escaped by means of rafts, and sofas, andlife-preservers. I fancied he had not seen Mademoiselle until she wasspringing over the guards, and would therefore scarce recognise heragain. 

The cause of my being an invalid was only known to Mademoiselle, Aurore, and Scipio; and the latter had been charged not to carry this knowledgeto the negro quarter. Then the fellow was but new on the plantation, and had but little intercourse with its mistress, as he received most ofhis orders from Gayarre; besides, he was but a dull brute after all. 

It was just like enough that, up to the moment of our late encounter, hehad no suspicion either that I was his former antagonist on the boat, orEugenie Besancon the lady who had escaped him. He must have known of mypresence on the plantation, but only as one of the survivors of thewreck, badly wounded, --scalded, perhaps, --but there had been a number ofothers, picked up, --scarce a house for some distance along the coast buthad given shelter to some wounded or half-drowned unfortunate. He hadbeen busy with his own affairs; or rather, perhaps, those of Gayarre:for I had no doubt there was some conspiracy between them in which thisfellow was to play a part. Dull as he was, he had something which hisemployer might regard of more value than intellect; something, too, which the latter himself lacked, --brute strength and brute courage. Gayarre no doubt had a use for him, else he would not have been there. 

He knew me now, and was not likely soon to forget me. Would he seekrevenge? Beyond doubt he would, but I fancied it would be by some baseunderhand means. I had no fear that he would again attack me openly, atleast by himself. I felt quite sure that I had conquered, andencowardiced him. I had encountered his like before. I know that hiscourage was not of that character to outlive defeat. It was the courageof the bravo. 

I had no fear of an open attack. All I had to apprehend was some, secret revenge, or perhaps the law!

You will wonder that any thought or dread of the latter should haveoccurred to me: but it did; and I had my reasons. 

The knowledge of Gayarre's designs, the detection of his villainouspurpose with Aurore, and my rencontre with Larkin, had brought mattersto a crisis. I was filled with anxiety, and convinced of the necessityof a speedy interview with Mademoiselle, in relation to what was nearestto my heart, _the purchase of the quadroon_. There was no reason why asingle hour should be wasted, now that Aurore and I understood eachother, and had, in fact, _betrothed_ ourselves. 

I even thought of riding back at once, and had turned my horse for thepurpose. I hesitated. My resolution wavered. I wheeled round again, and kept on to Bringiers, with the determination to return to theplantation at an early hour in the morning. 

I entered the village and proceeded straight to the hotel. On my tableI found a letter containing a cheque for two hundred pounds on theBringiers bank. It was from my banking agent in New Orleans, who hadreceived it from England. The letter also contained the informationthat five hundred more would reach me in a few days. The sum receivedwas a pleasant relief, and would enable me to discharge my pecuniaryobligations to Reigart; which in the next hour I had the pleasure ofdoing. 

I passed a night of great anxiety, --almost a sleepless night. Nowonder. To-morrow was to be a crisis. For me, happiness or misery wasin the womb of to-morrow. A thousand hopes and fears hung suspended onthe result of my interview with Eugenie Besancon. I actually lookedforward to this interview with more anxiety than I had done but a fewhours ago to that with Aurore! Perhaps, because I had less confidencein a favourable result. 

As early as etiquette would allow of a morning visit, I was in thesaddle, and heading towards the plantation Besancon. 

As I rode out of the village I noticed that men regarded me with glancesthat bespoke an unusual interest. 

"My affair with the overseer is already known, " thought I. "No doubtthe negroes have spread the report of it. Such matters soon becomepublic. "

I was unpleasantly impressed with an idea that the expression onpeople's faces was anything but a friendly one. Had I committed anunpopular act in protecting myself? Usually the conqueror in such anencounter is rather popular than otherwise, in the chivalric land ofLouisiana. Why, then, did men look scowling upon me? What had I doneto merit reproach? I had "whipped" a rude fellow, whom men esteemed a"bully;" and in self-defence had I acted. The act should have gained meapplause, according to the code of the country. Why then, --ha! stay! Ihad interfered between _white_ and _black_. I had _protected a slavefrom punishment_. Perhaps that might account for the disagreeableexpression I had observed!

I could just guess at another cause, of a very different and somewhatludicrous character. It had got rumoured abroad that I "was upon goodterms with Mademoiselle Besancon, " and that it was not unlikely that oneof these fine days the adventurer, whom nobody knew anything about, would carry off the rich plantress!

There is no part of the world where such a _bonne fortune_ is notregarded with envy. The United States is no exception to the rule; andI had reason to know that on account of this absurd rumour I was notvery favourably regarded by some of the young planters and dandystorekeepers who loitered about the streets of Bringiers. 

I rode on without heeding the "black looks" that were cast upon me, andindeed soon ceased thinking of them. My mind was too full of anxietyabout the approaching interview to be impressed with minor cares. 

Of course Eugenie would have heard all about the affair of yesterday. What would be her feelings in relation to it? I felt certain that thisruffian was forced upon, her by Gayarre. She would have no sympathywith _him_. The question was, would she have the courage--nay, the_power_ to discharge him from her service? Even on hearing _who_ hewas? It was doubtful enough!

I was overwhelmed with sympathy for this poor girl. I felt satisfiedthat Gayarre must be her creditor to a large amount, and in that way hadher in his power. What he had said to Aurore convinced me that such wasthe case. Indeed, Reigart had heard some whisper that his debt hadalready been proved before the courts in New Orleans; that no oppositionhad been made; that he had obtained a verdict, and could seize upon herproperty, or as much of it as would satisfy his demands, at any moment!It was only the night before Reigart had told me this, and theinformation had rendered me all the more anxious to hasten my businessin relation to Aurore. 

I spurred into a gallop, and soon came in sight of the plantation. Having arrived at the gate, I dismounted. There was no one to hold myhorse, but that is a slight matter in America, where a gate-post or abranch of a tree often serves as a groom. 

Bethinking me of this ready expedient I tossed my rein over one of thepalings, and walked toward the house. 

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. 

"ELLE T'AIME!"

It was natural I should have thoughts about my yesterday's antagonist. Would I encounter him? Not likely. The butt of my whip had no doubtgiven him a headache that would confine him for some days to hisquarters. But I was prepared for any event. Under my waistcoat werehis own double-barrelled pistols, which I intended to use, if attacked. It was my first essay at carrying "concealed weapons, " but it was thefashion of the country at the time--a fashion followed by nineteen outof every twenty persons you met--by planters, merchants, lawyers, doctors, and even divines! So prepared, I had no fear of an encounterwith "Bully Bill. " If my pulse beat quick and my step was nervous, itwas on account of the anticipated interview with his mistress. 

With all the coolness I could command, I entered the house. 

I found Mademoiselle in the drawing-room. She received me withoutreserve or embarrassment. To my surprise as well as gratification sheappeared more cheerful than usual. I could even detect a significantsmile! I fancied she was pleased at what had occurred; for of courseshe was aware of it all. I could understand this well enough. 

Aurore was not present. I was glad she was not. I hoped she would notcome into the room--_at least for a time_. I was embarrassed. I scarceknew how to open the conversation, much less to break to Mademoisellethe matter that was nearest my heart. A few ordinary phrases passedbetween us, and then our conversation turned upon the affair ofyesterday. I told her all--everything--except the scene with Aurore. That was omitted. 

I hesitated for some time whether I should let her know _who_ heroverseer was. When she should ascertain that he was the fellow who hadwounded me on the boat, and who but for me would have taken away herchances of safety, I felt certain she would insist upon getting rid ofhim at all risks. 

For a moment I reflected upon the consequences. "She will never besafe, " thought I, "with such a ruffian at her side. Better for her tomake stand at once. " Under this belief I boldly came out with theinformation. 

She seemed astounded, and clasping her hands, remained for some momentsin an attitude of mute agony. At length she cried out--

"Gayarre--Gayarre! it is you, Monsieur Gayarre! Oh! _mon Dieu! monDieu_! Where is my father? where is Antoine? God have mercy upon me!"

The expression of grief upon her lovely countenance went to my heart. She looked an angel of sorrow, sad but beautiful. 

I interrupted her with consolatory phrases of the ordinary kind. ThoughI could only guess the nature of her sorrow, she listened to mepatiently, and I fancied that what I said gave her pleasure. 

Taking courage from this, I proceeded to inquire more particularly thecause of her grief. "Mademoiselle, " said I, "you will pardon theliberty I am taking; but for some time I have observed, or fancied, thatyou have a cause of--of--unhappiness--"

She fixed her eyes upon me in a gaze of silent wonder. I hesitated amoment under this strange regard, and then continued--

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle, if I speak too boldly; I assure you mymotive--"

"Speak on, Monsieur!" she said, in a calm sad voice. 

"I noticed this the more, because when I first had the pleasure ofseeing you, your manner was so very different--in fact, quite thereverse--"

A sigh and a sad smile were the only reply. These interrupted me forbut a moment, and I proceeded:--

"When first observing this change, Mademoiselle, I attributed it togrief for the loss of your faithful servitor and friend. "

Another melancholy smile. 

"But the period of sorrowing for such a cause is surely past, and yet--"

"And yet you observe that I am still sad?"

"Just so, Mademoiselle. "

"True, Monsieur; it is even so. "

"I have ceased therefore to regard that as the cause of your melancholy;and have been forced to think of some other--"

The gaze of half surprise, half interrogation, that now met mine, causedme for a moment to suspend my speech. After a pause, I resumed it, determined to come at once to the point, "You will pardon me, Mademoiselle, for this free interest in your affairs--you will pardon mefor asking. Do I not recognise in Monsieur Gayarre the cause of yourunhappiness?"

She started at the question, and turned visibly paler. In a moment, however, she seemed to recover herself, and replied calmly, but with alook of strange significance:--

"Helas! Monsieur, your suspicions are but _partially_ correct. Helas!Oh! God, support me!" she added, in a tone that sounded like despair. Then, as if by an effort, her manner seemed to undergo a suddenalteration, and she continued:--

"Please, Monsieur, let us change the subject? I owe you life andgratitude. Would I knew how to repay you for your generous gallantry--your--your--_friendship_. Perhaps some day you may know all. I wouldtell you now, but--but--Monsieur--there are--I cannot--"

"Mademoiselle Besancon, I entreat you, do not for a moment let thequestions I have asked have any consideration. They were not put fromidle curiosity. I need not tell you, Mademoiselle, that my motive wasof a higher kind--"

"I know it, Monsieur--I know it; but no more of it now, I pray you--letus speak on some other subject. "

Some other subject! I had no longer the choice of one. I had no longercontrol of my tongue. The subject which was nearest my heart sprangspontaneously to my lips; and in hurried words I declared my love forAurore. 

I detailed the whole course of my passion, from the hour of my dreamlikevision up to that when we had plighted our mutual troth. 

My listener was seated upon the low ottoman directly before me; but frommotives of bashfulness I had kept my eyes averted during the time I wasspeaking. She heard me without interruption, and I augured well fromthis silence. 

I concluded at length, and with trembling heart was awaiting her reply;when a deep sigh, followed by a rustling sound, caused me suddenly toturn. _Eugenie had fallen upon the floor_!

With a glance I saw she had fainted. I flung my arms around her, andcarried her to the sofa. 

I was about to call for assistance when the door opened, and a formglided into the room. _It was Aurore_!

"_Mon Dieu_!" exclaimed the latter; "_vous l'avez faire mourir! Ellet'aime--Elle t'aime_!"

CHAPTER THIRTY. 

THOUGHTS. 

That night I passed without repose. How was it with Eugenie? How withAurore?

Mine was a night of reflections, in which pleasure and pain weresingularly blended. The love of the quadroon was my source of pleasure;but, alas! pain predominated as my thoughts dwelt upon the Creole! Thatthe latter loved me I no longer doubted; and this assurance, so far fromgiving me joy, filled me with keen regret. Accursed vanity, that canenjoy such a triumph, --vile heart, that can revel in a love it is unableto return! Mine did not: it grieved instead. 

In thought I reviewed the short hours of intercourse that had passedbetween us--Eugenie Besancon and myself. I communed with my conscience, asking myself the question, Was I innocent? Had I done aught, either byword, or look, or gesture, to occasion this love?--to produce the firstdelicate impression, that upon a heart susceptible as hers soon becomesa fixed and vivid picture? Upon the boat? Or afterwards? I rememberedthat at first sight I had gazed upon her with admiring eyes. Iremembered that in hers I had beheld that strange expression of interestwhich I had attributed to curiosity or some other cause--I knew notwhat. Vanity, of which no doubt I possess my share, had not interpretedthose tender glances aright--had not even whispered me they were theflowers of love, easily ripened to its fruits. Had I been instrumentalin nurturing those flowers of the heart?--had I done aught to beguilethem to their fatal blooming?

I examined the whole course of my conduct, and pondered over all thathad passed between us. I thought of all that had occurred during ourpassage upon the boat--during the tragic scene that followed. I couldnot remember aught, either of word, look, or gesture, by which I mightcondemn myself. I gave full play to my conscience, and it declared meinnocent. 

Afterwards--after that terrible night--after those burning eyes and thatstrange face had passed dreamlike before my disordered senses--afterthat moment I could not have been guilty of aught that was trivial. During the hours of my convalescence--during the whole period of my stayupon the plantation--I could remember nothing in my intercourse withEugenie Besancon to give me cause for regret. Towards her I hadobserved a studied respect--nothing more. Secretly I felt friendshipand sympathy; more especially after I had noted the change in hermanner, and feared that some cloud was shadowing her fortune. Alas, poor Eugenie! Little did I guess the nature of that cloud! Little didI dream how dark it was!

Notwithstanding my self-exculpation, I still felt pain. Had EugenieBesancon been a woman of ordinary character I might have borne myreflections more lightly. But to a heart so highly attuned, so noble, so passionate, what would be the shock of an unrequited love? Terribleit must be; perhaps the more so at thus finding her rival in her ownslave!

Strange confidante had I chosen for my secret! Strange ear into which Ihad poured the tale of my love! Oh that I had not made my confession!What suffering had I caused this fair, this unfortunate lady!

Such painful reflections coursed through my mind; but there were othersequally bitter, and with bitterness springing from a far differentsource. What would be the effect of the disclosure? How would itaffect our future--the future of myself and Aurore? How would Eugenieact? Towards me? towards Aurore--_her slave_?

My confession had received no response. The mute lips murmured neitherreply nor adieu. I had gazed but a moment on the insensible form. Aurore had beckoned me away, and I had left the room in a state ofembarrassment and confusion--I scarce remembered how. 

What would be the result? I trembled to think. Bitterness, hostility, revenge?

Surely a soul so pure, so noble, could not harbour such passions asthese?

"No, " thought I; "Eugenie Besancon is too gentle, too womanly, to giveway to them. Is there a hope that she may have pity on _me_, as I pity_her_? Or is there not? She is a Creole--she inherits the fierypassions of her race. Should these be aroused to jealousy, to revenge, her gratitude will soon pass away--her love be changed to scorn. _Herown slave_!"

Ah! I well understood the meaning of this relationship, though I cannotmake it plain to you. You can ill comprehend the horrid feeling. Talkof a _mesalliance_ of the aristocratic lord with the daughter of hispeasant retainer, of the high-born dame with her plebeian groom--talk ofthe scandal and scorn to which such rare events give rise! All this islittle--is mild, when compared with the positive disgust and horror feltfor the "white" who would ally himself _in marriage_ with a _slave_! Nomatter how white _she_ be, no matter how beautiful--even lovely asAurore--he who would make her his _wife_ must bear her away from hernative land, far from the scenes where she has hitherto been known! His_mistress_--all! that is another affair. An alliance of this nature ispardonable. The "society" of the South is satisfied with the_slave-mistress_; but the _slave-wife_--that is an impossibility, anincongruity not to be borne!

I knew that the gifted Eugenie was above the common prejudices of herclass; but I should have expected too much to suppose that she was abovethis one. No; noble, indeed, must be the soul that could have thrownoff this chain, coiled around it by education, by habit, by example, byevery form of social life. Notwithstanding all--notwithstanding therelations that existed between herself and Aurore, I could not expectthis much. Aurore was her companion, her friend; but still Aurore was_her slave_!

I trembled for the result. I trembled for our next interview. In thefuture I saw darkness and danger. I had but one hope, one joy--the loveof Aurore!

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I rose from my sleepless couch. I dressed and ate my breakfasthurriedly, mechanically. 

That finished, I was at a loss what to do next. Should I return to theplantation, and seek another interview with Eugenie. No--not then. Ihad not the courage. It would be better, I reflected, to permit sometime to pass--a day or two--before going back. Perhaps Mademoisellewould send for me?

Perhaps--At all events, it would be better to allow some days to elapse. Long days they would be to me!

I could not bear the society of any one. I shunned conversation;although I observed, as on the preceding day, that I was the object ofscrutiny--the subject of comment among the loungers of the "bar, " and myacquaintances of the billiard-room. To avoid them, I remained inside myroom, and endeavoured to kill time by reading. 

I soon grew tired of this chamber-life; and upon the third morning Iseized my gun, and plunged into the depth of the forest. 

I moved amidst the huge pyramidal trunks of the cypresses, whose thickumbellated foliage, meeting overhead, shut out both sun and sky. Thevery gloom occasioned by their shade was congenial to my thoughts; and Iwandered on, my steps guided rather by accident than design. 

I did not search for game. I was not thinking of sport. My gun restedidly in the hollow of my arm. The raccoon, which in the more open woodsis nocturnal, is here abroad by day. I saw the creature plunging hisfood into the waters of the bayou, and skulking around the trunks of thecypresses. I saw the opossum gliding along the fallen log, and the redsquirrel, like a stream of fire, brushing up the bark of the talltulip-tree. I saw the large "swamp-hare" leap from her form by theselvage of the cane-brake; and, still more tempting game, thefallow-deer twice bounded before me, roused from its covert in the shadythickets of the pawpaw-trees. The wild turkey, too, in all the glitterof his metallic plumage, crossed my path; and upon the bayou, whose bankI for some time followed, I had ample opportunity of discharging mypiece at the blue heron or the egret, the summer duck or the snake-bird, the slender ibis or the stately crane. Even the king of wingedcreatures, the white-headed eagle, was more than once within range of mygun, screaming his maniac note among the tops of the tall taxodiums. 

And still the brown tubes rested idly across my arm; nor did I oncethink of casting my eye along their sights. No ordinary game could havetempted me to interrupt the current, of my thoughts, that were dwellingupon a theme to me the most interesting in the world--Aurore thequadroon!

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. 

DREAMS. 

Yielding up my soul to its sweet love-dream, I wandered on--where andhow long I cannot tell, for I had taken no note either of distance ordirection. 

I was roused from my reverie by observing a brighter light gleamingbefore me; and soon after I emerged from the darker shadow of theforest. My steps, chance-directed, had guided me into a pretty glade, where the sun shone warmly, and the ground was gay with flowers. It wasa little wild garden, enamelled by blossoms of many colours, amongwhich, bignonias and the showy corollas of the cotton-rose wereconspicuous. Even the forest that bordered and enclosed this littleparterre was a forest of flowering-trees. They were magnolias ofseveral kinds; on some of which the large liliaceous blossoms had givenplace to the scarcely less conspicuous seed-cones of glowing red, whosepowerful but pleasant odour filled the atmosphere around. Otherbeautiful trees grew alongside, mingling their perfume with that of themagnolias. Scarce less interesting were the "honey-locusts"(_gleditschias_), with their pretty pinnate leaves, and longpurple-brown legumes; the Virginian lotus, with its oval amber-coloureddrupes, and the singular bow-wood tree (_madura_), with its largeorange-like pericarps, reminding one of the _flora_ of the tropics. TheAutumn was just beginning to paint the forest, and already some touchesfrom his glowing palette appeared among the leaves of the sassafraslaurel, the sumach (_rhus_), the persimmon (_diospyros_), thenymph-named tupelo, and those other species of the American _sylva_ thatlove to array themselves so gorgeously before parting with theirdeciduous foliage. Yellow, orange, scarlet, crimson, with many anintermediate tint, met the eye; and all these colours, flashing underthe brilliant beams of a noonday sun, produced an indescribable_coup-d'oeil_. The scene resembled the gaudy picture-work of a theatre, more than the sober reality of a natural landscape. 

I stood for some minutes wrapt in admiration. The dream of love inwhich I had been indulging became heightened in its effect; and I couldnot help thinking that if Aurore were but present to enjoy that lovelyscene--to wander with me over that flowery glade--to sit by my sideunder the shade of the magnolia laurel--then, indeed, would my happinessbe complete. Earth itself had no fairer scene than this. A verylove-bower it appeared!

Nor was it unoccupied by lovers; for two pretty doves--birds emblematicof the tender passion--sat side by side upon the bough of a tulip-tree, their bronzed throats swelling at intervals with soft amorous notes. 

Oh, how I envied those little creatures! How I should have rejoiced ina destiny like theirs! Thus mated and happy--amidst bright flowers andsweet perfumes, loving the livelong day--loving through all their lives!

They deemed me an intruder, and rose on whirring wing at my approach. Perchance they feared my glittering gun. They had not need. I had nointention of harming them. Far was it from my heart to spoil theirperfect bliss. 

But no--they feared me not--else their flight would have been moredistant. They only flitted to the next tree; and there again, seatedside by side, resumed their love-converse. Absorbed in mutual fondness, they had already forgotten my presence!

I followed to watch these pretty creatures--the types of gentleness andlove. I flung me on the grass, and gazed upon thorn, tenderly kissingand cooing. I envied their delight. 

My nerves, that for days had been dancing with more than ordinaryexcitement, were now experiencing the natural reaction, and I feltweary. There was a drowsiness in the air--a narcotic influence producedby the combined action of the sun's rays and the perfume of the flowers. It acted upon my spirit, and I fell asleep. 

I slept only about an hour, but it was a sleep of dreams; and duringthat short period I passed through many scenes. Many a visionarytableau appeared before the eye of my slumbering soul, and then meltedaway. There were more or less characters in each; but in all of themtwo were constant, both well defined in form and features. They wereEugenie and Aurore. 

Gayarre, too, was in my dreams; and the ruffian overseer, and Scipio, and the mild face of Reigart, and what I could remember of the goodAntoine. Even the unfortunate Captain of the boat, the boat herself, the Magnolia, and the scene of the wreck--all were reproduced with apainful distinctness!

But my visions were not all of a painful character. Some were the veryopposite--scenes of bliss. In company with Aurore, I was wanderingthrough flowery glades, and exchanging the sweet converse of mutuallove. The very spot where I lay--the scene around me--was pictured inthe dream. 

Strangest of all, I thought that Eugenie was with us, and that she, too, was happy; that she had consented to my marrying Aurore, and had evenassisted us in bringing about this happy consummation!

In this vision Gayarre was the fiend; and I thought that after a whilehe endeavoured to drag Aurore from me. A struggle followed, and thenthe scene ended with confused abruptness. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

A new tableau arose--a new vision. In this _Eugenie_ played the part ofthe evil genius. I thought she had refused my requests--refused to_sell Aurore_. I fancied her jealous, hostile, vengeful. I thought shewas loading me with imprecations, my betrothed with threats. Aurore wasweeping. It was a painful vision. 

The scene changed again. Aurore and I were happy--she was free--she wasnow mine, and we were married. But there was a cloud upon ourhappiness. _Eugenie was dead_. 

Yes, dead. I thought I was bending over her, and had taken her hand. Suddenly her fingers closed upon mine, and held them with a firmpressure. I thought that the contact was disagreeable; and Iendeavoured to withdraw my hand, but could not. My fingers remainedbound within that cold clammy grasp; and with all my strength I wasunable to release them! Suddenly I was stung; and at the same instantthe chill hand relaxed its grasp, and set me free. 

The stinging sensation, however, awoke me; and my eyes mechanicallyturned towards the hand, where I still felt pain. 

Sure enough my wrist was punctured and bleeding!

A feeling of horror ran through my veins, as the "sker-r-rr" of the_crotalus_ sounded in my ear; and, looking around, I saw the glitteringbody of the reptile extended along the grass, and gliding rapidly away!

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. 

STUNG BY A SNAKE. 

The pain was not a dream; the blood upon my wrist was no illusion. Bothwere real. I was bitten by a _rattlesnake_!

Terror-stricken I sprang to my feet; and, with an action altogethermechanical, passed my hand over the wound, and wiped away the blood. Itwas but a trifling puncture, such as might have been made by the pointof a lancet, and only a few drops of blood oozed from it. 

Such a wound need not have terrified a child, so far as appearance went;but I, a man, _was_ terrified, for I knew that that little incision hadbeen made by a dread instrument--by the envenomed fang of a serpent--and_in one hour I might be dead_!

My first impulse was to pursue the snake and destroy it; but before Icould act upon that impulse the reptile had escaped beyond my reach. Ahollow log lay near--the trunk of a large tulip-tree, with theheart-wood decayed and gone. The snake had made for this--no doubt itshaunt--and before I could come up with it, I saw the long slimy body, with its rhomboid spots, disappear within the dark cavity. Another"sker-r-rr" reached my ears as it glided out of sight. It seemed a noteof triumph, as if uttered to tantalise me!

The reptile was now beyond my reach, but its destruction would not haveavailed me. Its death could not counteract the effect of its poisonalready in my veins. I knew that well enough, but for all I would havekilled it, had it been in my power to do so. I felt angry and vengeful. 

This was but my first impulse. It suddenly became changed to a feelingof terror. There was something so weird in the look of the reptile, something so strange in the manner of its attack and subsequent escape, that, on losing sight of it, I became suddenly impressed with a sort ofsupernatural awe--a belief that the creature was possessed of a fiendishintelligence!

Under this impression I remained for some moments in a state ofbewilderment. 

The sight of the blood, and the stinging sensation of the wound, soonbrought me to my senses again, and admonished me of the necessity oftaking immediate steps to procure an antidote to the poison. But whatantidote?

What knew I of such things? I was but a classical scholar. True, I hadlately given some attention to botanical studies; but my new knowledgeextended only to the _trees_ of the forest, and none of these with whichI was acquainted possessed alexipharmic virtues. I knew nothing of theherbaceous plants, the milk-worts, and _aristolochias_, that would nowhave served me. The woods might have been filled with antidotalremedies, and I have died in their midst. Yes, I might have lain downupon a bed of Seneca root, and, amidst terrible convulsions, havebreathed my last breath, without knowing that the rhizome of the humbleplant crushed beneath my body would, in a few short hours, have expelledthe venom from my veins, and given me life and health. 

I lost no time in speculating upon such a means of safety. I had butone thought--and that was to reach Bringiers at the earliest possiblemoment. My hopes rested upon Reigart. 

I hastily took up my gun; and, plunging once more under the dark shadowsof the cypress-trees, I hurried on with nervous strides. I ran as fastas my limbs would carry me; but the shock of terror I had experiencedseemed to have enfeebled my whole frame, and my knees knocked againsteach other as I went. 

On I struggled, regardless of my weakness, regardless of everything butthe thought of reaching Bringiers and Reigart. Over fallen trees, through dense cane-brakes, through clumps of palmettoes and pawpawthickets, I passed, dashing the branches from my path, and lacerating myskin at every step. Onward, through sluggish rivulets of water, throughtough miry mud, through slimy pools, filled with horrid newts, and thespawn of the huge _rana pipiens_, whose hoarse loud croak at every stepsounded ominous in my ear. Onward!

"Ho! whither am I going? Where is the path? where the tracks of myformer footsteps? Not here--not there. Good God! I have lost them!--lost! lost!"

Quick as lightning came these thoughts. I looked around with eagerglances. On every side I scanned the ground. I saw no path, no tracks, but those I had just made. I saw no marks that I could remember. I hadlost my way. Beyond a doubt I was lost!

A thrill of despair ran through me--the blood curdled cold in my veinsat the thought of my peril. 

No wonder. If lost in the forest, then was I lost indeed. A singlehour might be enough. In that time the poison would do its work. Ishould be found only by the wolves and vultures. O God!

As if to make my horrid fate appear more certain, I now remembered tohave heard that it was the very season of the year--the hot autumn--whenthe venom of the _crotalus_ is most virulent, and does its work in theshortest period of time. Cases are recorded where in a single hour itsbite has proved fatal. 

"Merciful heaven!" thought I, "in another hour I shall be no more!" andthe thought was followed by a groan. 

The danger nerved me to renewed efforts. I turned back on my tracks. It seemed the best thing I could do; for in the gloomy circle around, there was no point that indicated my approach to the open ground of theplantations. Not a bit of sky could I discover, --that welcome beacon tothe wood-ranger, denoting the proximity of the clearings. Even theheaven above was curtained from my view; and when I appealed to it inprayer, my eyes rested only upon the thick black foliage of thecypress-trees, with their mournful drapery of _tillandsia_. 

I had no choice but to go back, and endeavour to find the path I hadlost, or wander on trusting to mere chance. 

I chose the former alternative. Again I broke through the cane-brakesand palmetto-thickets--again I forded sluggish bayous, and waded acrossmuddy pools. 

I had not proceeded more than a hundred yards on the back track, whenthat also became doubtful. I had passed over a reach of ground higherand drier than the rest. Here no footprints appeared, and I knew notwhich way I had taken. I tried in several directions, but could notdiscover my way. I became confused, and at length completelybewildered. Again was I lost!

To have been lost in the forest under ordinary circumstances would havemattered little, --an hour or two of wandering--perhaps a night spentunder the shade of some tree, with the slight inconvenience of a hungrystomach. But how very different was my prospect then, with the fearfulthoughts that were pressing upon me! The poison was fast inoculating myblood. I fancied I already felt it crawling through my veins!

One more struggle to find the clearings!

I rushed on, now guided by chance. I endeavoured to keep in a straightline, but to no purpose. The huge pyramidal buttresses of the trees, socharacteristic of these _coniferae_, barred my way; and, in passingaround them, I soon lost all knowledge of my direction. 

I wandered on, now dragging wearily across the dull ditches, nowfloundering through tracts of swamp, or climbing over huge prostratelogs. In my passage I startled the thousand denizens of the dankforest, who greeted me with their cries. The qua-bird screamed; theswamp-owl hooted; the bullfrog uttered his trumpet-note; and the hideousalligator, horribly bellowing from his gaunt jaws, crawled sulkily outof my way, at times appearing as if he would turn and assail me!

"Ho! yonder is light!--the sky!"

It was but a small patch of the blue heaven--a disc, not larger than adining-plate. But, oh! you cannot understand with what joy I greetedthat bright spot. It was the lighthouse to the lost mariner. 

It must be the clearings? Yes, I could see the sun shining through thetrees, and the horizon open as I advanced. No doubt the plantationswere before me. Once there I should soon cross the fields, and reachthe town. I should yet be safe. Reigart would surely know how toextract the poison, or apply some antidote?

I kept on with bounding heart and straining eyes--on, for the brightmeteor before me. 

The blue spot grew larger--other pieces of sky appeared--the forest grewthinner as I advanced--I was drawing nearer to its verge. 

The ground became firmer and drier at every step, and the timber of alighter growth. The shapeless cypress "knees" no longer impeded myprogress. I now passed among tulip-trees, dogwoods, and magnolias. Less densely grew the trunks, lighter and less shadowy became thefoliage above; until at length I pushed through the last selvage of theunderwood, and stood in the open sunshine. 

A cry of agony rose upon my lips. It was wrung from me by despair. Ihad arrived at my point of starting--I was once more within the glade!

I sought not to go farther. Fatigue, disappointment, and chagrin, hadfor the moment paralysed my strength. I staggered forward to aprostrate trunk, --the very one which sheltered my reptile assassin!--andsat down in a state of irresolution and bewilderment. 

It seemed as though I were destined to die in that lovely glade--amidstthose bright flowers--in the midst of that scene I had so latelyadmired, and upon the very spot where I had received my fatal wound!

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. 

THE RUNAWAY. 

Man rarely yields up his life without an extreme effort to preserve it. Despair is a strong feeling, but there are those whose spirit it cannotprostrate. In later life mine own would not have given way to suchcircumstances as surrounded me at that time; but I was then young, andlittle experienced in peril. 

The paralysis of my thoughts did not continue long. My senses returnedagain; and I resolved to make a new effort for the salvation of my life. 

I had conceived no plan, further than to endeavour once more to escapeout of the labyrinth of woods and morass in which I had becomeentangled, and make as before for the village. I thought I knew thedirection in which it lay, by observing the side at which I had firstentered the glade. But, after all, there was no certainty in this. Itwas mere conjecture. I had entered the glade with negligent steps. Ihad strayed all around it before lying down to sleep. Perhaps I hadgone around its sides before entering it--for I had been wandering allthe morning. 

While these reflections were passing rapidly through my mind, anddespair once more taking possession of my spirits, I all at onceremembered having heard that tobacco is a powerful antidote tosnake-poison. Strange the idea had not occurred to me before. But, indeed, there was nothing wonderful that it did not, as up to thatmoment I had only thought of making my way to Bringiers. With noreliance upon my own knowledge, I had thought only of a doctor. It wasonly when I became apprehensive of not being able to get to _him_, thatI began to think of what resources lay within my reach. I nowremembered the tobacco. 

Quick as the thought my cigar-case was in my fingers. To my joy onecigar still remained, and drawing it out I proceeded to macerate thetobacco by chewing. This I had heard was the mode of applying it to thesnakebite. 

Dry as was my mouth at first, the bitter weed soon supplied me withsaliva, and in a few moments I had reduced the leaves to a pulp, thoughnauseated--almost poisoned by the powerful _nicotine_. 

I laid the moistened mass upon my wrist, and at the same time rubbed itforcibly into the wound. I now perceived that my arm was sensiblyswollen--even up to the elbow--and a singular pain began to be feltthroughout its whole length! O God! the poison was spreading, surelyand rapidly spreading! I fancied I could feel it like liquid firecrawling and filtering through my veins!

Though I had made application of the nicotine, I had but little faith init. I had only heard it casually talked of as a remedy. It might, thought I, be one of the thousand fancies that people love to indulgein; and I had only used it as a "forlorn hope. "

I bound the mass to my wrist--a torn sleeve serving for lint; and then, turning my face in the direction I intended to take, I started offafresh. 

I had scarce made three strides when my steps were suddenly arrested. Istopped on observing a man on the edge of the glade, and directly infront of me. 

He had just come out of the underwood, towards which I was advancing, and, on perceiving me, had suddenly halted--perhaps surprised at thesight of one of his own kind in such a wild place. 

I hailed his appearance with a shout of joy. "A guide!--a deliverer!"thought I. 

What was my astonishment--my chagrin--my indignation--when the mansuddenly turned his back upon me; and, plunging into the bushes, disappeared from my sight!

I was astounded at this strange conduct. I had just caught a glimpse ofthe man's face as he turned away. I had seen that he was a negro, and Ihad noticed that he appeared to be frightened. But what was there aboutme to terrify him?

I called out to him to stop--to come back. I shouted in tones ofentreaty--of command--of menace. In vain. He made neither stop norstay. I heard the branches crackle as he broke through the thicket--each moment the noise appearing more distant. 

It was my only chance for a guide. I must not lose it; and, bracingmyself for a run, I started after him. 

If I possess any physical accomplishment in which I have confidence itis my fleetness of foot. At that time an Indian runner could not haveescaped me, much less a clumsy, long-heeled negro. I knew that if Icould once more got my eyes upon the black, I would soon overhaul him;but therein lay the difficulty. In my hesitation I had given him a longstart; and he was now out of sight in the depth of the thicket. 

But I could hear him breaking through the bushes like a hog; and, guiding myself by the sound, I kept up the pursuit. 

I was already somewhat jaded by my previous exertions; but theconviction that _my life depended on overtaking the negro_ kindled myenergies afresh, and I ran like a greyhound. Unfortunately it was not aquestion of simple speed, else the chase would soon have been brought toan end. It was in getting through the bushes, and dodging round thetrunks of the trees, that the hindrance lay; and I had many a struggleamong the branches, and many a zigzag turn to make, before I could getmy eyes upon the object I was in pursuit of. 

However, I at length succeeded in doing so. The underwood came to anend. The misshapen cypress trunks alone stood up out of the miry, blacksoil; and far off, down one of their dark aisles, I caught sight of thenegro, still running at the top of his speed. Fortunately his garmentswere light-coloured, else under the sombre shadow I could not have madehim out. As it was, I had only a glimpse of him, and at a good distanceoff. 

But I had cleared the thicket, and could run freely. Swiftness had noweverything to do with the race; and in less than five minutes after Iwas close upon the heels of the black, and calling to him to halt. 

"Stop!" I shouted. "For God's sake, stop!"

No notice was taken of my appeals. The negro did not even turn hishead, but ran on, floundering through the mud. 

"Stop!" I repeated, as loudly as my exhausted breath would permit. "Stop, man! why do you run from me? I mean you no harm. "

Neither did this speech produce any effect. No reply was given. Ifanything, I fancied that he increased his speed; or rather, perhaps, hehad got through the quagmire, and was running upon firm ground while Iwas just entering upon the former. 

I fancied that the distance between us was again widening; and began tofear he might still elude me. I felt that my life was on the result. Without him to guide me from the forest, I would miserably perish. He_must_ guide me. Willing or unwilling, I should force him to theoffice. 

"Stop, " I again cried out; "halt, or I fire!"

I had raised my gun. Both barrels were loaded. I had spoken in allseriousness. I should in reality have fired--not to kill, but to detainhim. The shot might injure him, but I could not help it. I had nochoice--no other means of saving my own life. 

I repeated the awful summons:--

"Stop--or I fire!"

This time my tone was earnest. It left no doubt of my intention; andthis seemed to be the impression it produced upon the black; for, suddenly halting in his tracks, he wheeled about, and stood facing me. 

"Fire! and be dam!" cried he; "have a care, white man--don't you miss. By Gor-amighty! if ya do, your life's mine. See dis knife! fire now andbe dam!"

As he spoke he stood full fronting me, his broad chest thrown out as ifcourageously to receive the shot, and in his uplifted hand I saw theshining blade of a knife!

A few steps brought me close up; and in the man that stood before me Irecognised the form, and ferocious aspect of _Gabriel the Bambarra_!

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. 

GABRIEL THE BAMBARRA. 

The huge stature of the black--his determined attitude--the sullen glareof his lurid bloodshot eyes, set in a look of desperate resolve--thewhite gleaming file-pointed teeth--rendered him a terrible object tobehold. Under other circumstances I might have dreaded an encounterwith such a hideous-looking adversary--for an _adversary_ I deemed him. I remembered the flogging I had given him with my whip, and I had nodoubt that _he_ remembered it too. I had no doubt that he was now uponhis errand of revenge instigated partly by the insult I had put uponhim, and partly set on by his cowardly master. He had been dogging methrough the forest--all the day, perhaps--waiting for an opportunity toexecute his purpose. 

But why had he run away from me? Was it because he feared to attack meopenly. Certainly it was--he feared my double-barrelled gun!

But I had been asleep. He might have approached me then--he mighthave--Ha!

This ejaculation escaped my lips, as a singular thought flashed into mymind. The Bambarra was a "snake-charmer"--I had heard so--could handlethe most venomous serpents at rail--could guide and direct them! Was itnot he who had guided the _crotalus_ to where I lay--who had caused meto be bitten?

Strange as it may appear, this supposition at that moment crossed mymind, and seemed probable; nay, more--I actually _believed it_. Iremembered that I had been struck with a peculiarity about the reptile--its weird look--the superior cunning exhibited in its mode of escape--and not less peculiar the fact of its having stung me unprovoked--a rarething for the rattlesnake to do! All these points rushingsimultaneously into my mind, produced the conviction that for the fatalwound on my wrist I was indebted, not to chance, but to Gabriel thesnake-charmer!

Not half the time I have been telling you of it--not the tenth nor thehundredth part of the time, was I in forming this horrid conviction. Itwas done with the rapidity of thought--the more rapid that everycircumstance guiding to such a conclusion was fresh in my memory. Infact the black had not changed his attitude of menace, nor I mine ofsurprise at recognising him, until all these thoughts had passed throughmy mind!

Almost with equal rapidity was I disabused of the singular delusion. Inanother minute I became aware that my suspicions were unjust. I hadbeen wronging the man who stood before me. 

All at once his attitude changed. His uplifted arm fell by his side;the expression of fierce menace disappeared; and in as mild a tone ashis rough voice was capable of giving utterance to, he said--

"Oh! you mass'--brack man's friend! Dam! thought 'twar da cussed Yankeedriber!"

"And was that why you ran from me?"

"Ye, mass'; ob course it war. "

"Then you are--"

"Am runaway; ye, mass', jes so--runaway. Don't mind tell you. Gabr'eltruss you--He know you am poor nigga's friend. Look-ee-dar. "

As he uttered this last phrase, he pulled off the scanty copper-colouredrag of a shirt that covered his shoulders, and bared his back before myeyes!

A horrid sight it was. Besides the _fleur-de-lis_ and many other oldbrands, there were sears of more recent date. Long wales, purple-redand swollen, traversed the brown skin in every direction, formingperfect network. Here they were traceable by the darker colour of theextravasatod blood, while there the flesh itself lay bare, where it hadbeen exposed to some prominent fold of the spirally-twisted cowskin. The old shirt itself was stained with black blotches that had once beenred--the blood that had oozed out during the infliction! The sightsickened me, and called forth the involuntary utterance--

"Poor fellow!"

This expression of sympathy evidently touched the rude heart of theBambarra. 

"Ah, mass'!" he continued, "you flog me with hoss-whip--dat nuff'n!Gabr'l bress you for dat. He pump water on ole Zip _'gainst him will_--glad when young mass' druv im way from de pump. "

"Ha! you were forced to it, then?"

"Ye, mass', forced by da Yankee driber. Try make me do so odder time. I 'fuse punish Zip odder time--dat's why you see dis yeer--dam!"

"You were flogged for refusing to punish Scipio?"

"Jes so, mass' Edwad; 'bused, as you see; but--" here the speakerhesitated, while his face resumed its fierce expression; "but, "continued he, "I'se had rebenge on de Yankee--dam!"

"What?--revenge? What have you done to him?"

"Oh, not much, mass'. Knock im down; he drop like a beef to de axe. Dat's some rebenge to poor nigga. Beside, I'se a runaway, _an' dat'srebenge_! Ha! ha! Dey lose good nigga--good hand in de cotton-feel--good hand among de cane. Ha! ha!"

The hoarse laugh with which the "runaway" expressed his satisfactionsounded strangely on my ear. 

"And you have run away from the plantation?"

"Jes so, mass' Edward--nebber go back. " After a pause, he added, withincreased emphasis, "_Nebber go back 'live_!"

As he uttered these words he raised his hand to his broad chest, at thesame time throwing his body into an attitude of earnest determination. 

I saw at once that I had mistaken the character of this man. I had hadit from his enemies, the whites, who feared him. With all the ferocityof expression that characterised his features, there was evidentlysomething noble in his heart. He had been flogged for refusing to floga fellow-slave. He had resented the punishment, and struck down hisbrutal oppressor. By so doing he had risked a far more terriblepunishment--even life itself!

It required courage to do all this. A spirit of liberty alone couldhave inspired him with that courage--the same spirit which impelled theSwiss patriot to strike down the cap of Gessler. 

As the negro stood with his thick muscular fingers spread over hisbrawny chest, with form erect, with head thrown back, and eyes fixed instern resolve, I was impressed with an air of grandeur about him, andcould not help thinking that in the black form before me, scantily cladin coarse cotton, there was the soul and spirit of a man!

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. 

THE SNAKE-DOCTOR. 

With admiring eyes I looked for some moments on this bold black man--this slave-hero. I might have gazed longer, but the burning sensationin my arm reminded me of my perilous situation. 

"You will guide me to Bringiers?" was my hurried interrogatory. 

"Daren't, mass'. "

"Daren't! Why?"

"Mass' forgot I'se a runaway. White folk cotch Gabr'l--cut off himarm. "

"What? Cut off your arm?"

"Saten sure, mass'--dats da law of Loozyaney. White man strike nigga, folk laugh, folk cry out, `Lap de dam nigga! lap him!' Nigga strikewhite man, cut off nigga's arm. Like berry much to 'bleege mass' Edwad, but daren't go to de clearins. White men after Gabr'l last two days. Cuss'd blood-dogs and nigga-hunters out on im track. Thought youngmass' war one o' dem folks; dat's why um run. "

"If you do not guide me, then I must die. "

"Die!--die! why for mass' say dat?"

"Because I am lost. I cannot find my way out of the forest. If I donot reach the doctor in less than twenty minutes, there is no hope. OGod!"

"Doctor!--mass' Edwad sick? What ail um? Tell Gabr'l. If dat's dacase, him guide de brack man's friend at risk ob life. What young mass'ail?"

"See! I have been bitten by a rattlesnake. "

I bared my arm, and showed the wound and the swelling. 

"Ho! dat indeed! sure 'nuff--it are da bite ob de rattlesnake. Doctorno good for dat. Tobacc'-juice no good. Gabr'l best doctor for derattlesnake. Come 'long, young mass'!"

"What! you are going to guide me, then?"

"I'se a gwine to _cure_ you, mass'. "

"You?"

"Ye, mass'! tell you doctor no good--know nuffin' 't all 'bout it--hekill you--truss Ole Gabe--he cure you. Come 'long, mass', no time t' beloss. "

I had for the moment forgotten the peculiar reputation which the blackenjoyed--that of a snake-charmer and snake-doctor as well, although Ihad so late been thinking of it. The remembrance of this fact nowreturned, accompanied by a very different train of reflections. 

"No doubt, " thought I, "he possesses the requisite knowledge--knows theantidote, and how to apply it. No doubt he is the very man. Thedoctor, as he says, may not understand how to treat me. "

I had no very great confidence that the doctor could cure me. I wasonly running to him as a sort of _dernier ressort_. 

"This Gabriel--this snake-charmer, is the very man. How fortunate Ishould have met with him!"

After a moment's hesitation--during the time these reflections werepassing through my mind--I called out to the black--

"Lead on! I follow you!"

Whither did he intend to guide me? What was he going to do? Where was_he_ to find an antidote? How was he to cure me?

To these questions, hurriedly put, I received no reply. 

"You truss me, mass' Edward; you foller me!" were all the words theblack would utter as he strode off among the trees. 

I had no choice but to follow him. 

After proceeding several hundred yards through the cypress swamp, I sawsome spots of sky in front of us. This indicated an opening in thewoods, and for that I saw my guide was heading. I was not surprised onreaching this opening to find that it was the glade--again the fatalglade!

To my eyes how changed its aspect! I could not bear the bright sun thatgleamed into it. The sheen of its flowers wearied my sight--theirperfume made me sick!

Maybe I only fancied this. I was sick, but from a very different cause. The poison was mingling with my blood. It was setting my veins onfire. I was tortured by a choking sensation of thirst, and already feltthat spasmodic compression of the chest, and difficulty of breathing--the well-known symptoms experienced by the victims of snake-poison. 

It may be that I only fancied most of this. I knew that a venomousserpent had bitten me; and that knowledge may have excited myimagination to an extreme susceptibility. Whether the symptoms did inreality exist, I suffered them all the same. My fancy had all thepainfulness of reality!

My companion directed me to be seated. Moving about, he said, was notgood. He desired me to be calm and patient, once more begging me to"truss Gabr'l. "

I resolved to be quiet, though patient I could not be. My peril was toogreat. 

Physically I obeyed him. I sat down upon a log--that same log of theliriodendron--and under the shade of a spreading dogwood-tree. With allthe patience I could command, I sat awaiting the orders of thesnake-doctor. He had gone off a little way, and was now wanderingaround the glade with eyes bent upon the ground. He appeared to besearching for something. 

"Some plant, " thought I, "he expects to find growing there. "

I watched his movements with more than ordinary interest. I need hardlyhave said this. It would have been sufficient to say that I felt mylife depended on the result of his search. His success or his failurewere life or death to me. 

How my heart leaped when I saw him bend forward, and then stoop stilllower, as if clutching something upon the ground! An exclamation of joythat escaped his lips was echoed in a louder key from my own; and, forgetting his directions to remain quiet, I sprang up from the log, andran towards him. 

As I approached he was upon his knees, and with his knife-blade wasdigging around a plant, as if to raise it by the roots. It was a smallherbaceous plant, with erect simple stem, oblong lanceolate leaves, anda terminal spike of not very conspicuous white flowers. Though I knewit not then, it was the famed "snake-root" (_Polygala senega_). 

In a few moments he had removed the earth, and then, drawing out theplant, shook its roots free of the mould. I noticed that a mass ofwoody contorted rhizomes, somewhat thicker than those of thesarsaparilla briar, adhered to the stem. They were covered withash-coloured bark, and quite inodorous. Amid the fibres of these rootslay the antidote to the snake-poison--in their sap was the saviour of myrife!

Not a moment was lost in preparing them. There were no hieroglyphicsnor Latinic phraseology employed in the prescription of thesnake-charmer. It was comprised in the phrase, "_Chaw it_!" and, alongwith this simple direction, a piece of the root scraped clear of thebark was put into my hand. I did as I was desired, and in a moment Ihad reduced the root to a pulp, and was swallowing its sanitary juices. 

The taste was at first rather sweetish, and engendered a slight feelingof nausea; but, as I continued to chew, it became hot and pungent, producing a peculiar tingling sensation in the fauces and throat. 

The black now ran to the nearest brook, filled one of his "brogans" withwater, and, returning, washed my wrist until the tobacco juice was allremoved from the wound. Having himself chewed a number of the leaves ofthe plant into a pulpy mass, he placed it directly upon the bitten part, and then bound up the wound as before. 

Everything was now done that could be done. I was instructed to abidethe result patiently and without fear. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a very short time a profuse perspiration broke out over my wholebody, and I began to expectorate freely. I felt, moreover, a stronginclination to vomit--which I should have done had I swallowed any moreof the juice, for, taken in large doses, the seneca root is a powerfulemetic. 

But of the feelings I experienced at that moment, the most agreeable wasthe belief that _I was cured_!

Strange to say, this belief almost at once impressed my mind with theforce of a conviction. I no longer doubted the skill of thesnake-doctor. 

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. 

CHARMING THE CROTALUS. 

I was destined to witness still further proofs of the wonderfulcapabilities of my new acquaintance. 

I felt the natural joy of one whose life has been, saved fromdestruction--singularly, almost miraculously saved. Like one who hasescaped from drowning, from the field of slaughter, from the very jawsof death. The reaction was delightful. I felt gratitude, too, for himwho had saved me. I could have embraced my sable companion, black andfierce as he was, like a brother. 

We sat side by side upon the log, and chatted gaily;--gaily as men maywhose future is dark and unsettled. Alas! it was so with both of us. Mine had been dark for days past; and his--what was his, poor helot?

But even in the gloom of sadness the mind has its moments of joy. Nature has not allowed that grief may be continuous, and at intervalsthe spirit must soar above its sorrows. Such an interval was upon methen. Joy and gratitude were in my heart. I had grown fond of thisslave, --this runaway slave, --and was for the moment happy in hiscompanionship. 

It was natural our conversation should be of snakes and snake-roots, andmany a strange fact he imparted to me relating to reptile life. Aherpetologist might have envied me the hour I spent upon that log in thecompany of Gabriel the Bambarra. 

In the midst of our conversation my companion abruptly asked thequestion, whether I had killed the snake that had bitten me. 

"No, " I replied. "It escaped. "

"'Scaped, mass'! whar did um go?"

"It took shelter in a hollow log, --the very one on which we are seated. "

The eyes of the negro sparkled with delight. 

"Dam!" exclaimed he, starting to his feet; "mass' say snake in dis yeerlog? Dam!" he repeated, "if do varmint yeer in dis log, Gabr'l soonfetch 'im out. "

"What! you have no axe?"

"Dis nigga axe no want for dat. "

"How, then, can you get at the snake? Do you intend to set fire to thelog?"

"Ho! fire no good. Dat log burn whole month. Fire no good: smoke whitemen see, --b'lieve 'im runaway, --den come de blood-dogs. Dis niggadaren't make no fire. "

"How, then?"

"Wait a bit, mass' Edwad, you see. Dis nigga fetch de rattlesnake rightout ob 'im boots. Please, young mass', keep still; don't speak 'bove debreff: ole varmint, he hear ebbery word. "

The black now talked in whispers, as he glided stealthily around thelog. I followed his directions, and remained perfectly "still, "watching every movement of my singular companion. 

Some young reeds of the American bamboo (_Arundo gigantea_) were growingnear. A number of these he cut down with his knife; and then, sharpening their lower ends, stuck them into the ground, near the end ofthe log. He arranged the reeds in such a manner that they stood side byside, like the strings of a harp, only closer together. He next chose asmall sapling from the thicket, and trimmed it so that nothing remainedbut a straight wand with a forked end. With this in one hand, and apiece of split cane in the other, he placed himself flat along the log, in such a position that his face was directly over the entrance to thecavity. He was also close to the row of canes, so that with hisoutstretched hand he could conveniently reach them. His arrangementswere now completed, and the "charm" commenced. 

Laying aside the forked sapling ready to his hand, he took the piece ofsplit reed, and drew it backward and forward across the row of uprightcanes. This produced a sound which was an exact imitation of the"skerr" of the rattlesnake; go like, that a person hearing it, withoutknowing what caused it, would undoubtedly have mistaken it for thelatter; so like, that the black knew the reptile itself would bedeceived by it! He did not, however, trust to this alone to allure hisvictim. Aided by an instrument which he had hastily constructed out ofthe lanceolate leaves of the cane, he at the same time imitated thescream and chatter of the red cardinal (_Loxia cardinalis_), just aswhen that bird is engaged in battle, either with a serpent, an opossum, or some other of its habitual enemies. 

The sounds produced were exactly similar to those often heard in thedepths of the American forest, when the dread _crotalus_ plunders thenest of the Virginian nightingale. 

The stratagem proved successful. In a few moments the lozenge-shapedhead of the reptile appeared outside the cavity. Its forking tongue wasprotruded at short intervals, and its small dark eyes glittered withrage. Its rattle could be heard, announcing its determination to takepart in the fray--which it supposed was going on outside. 

It had glided out nearly the full length of its body, and seemed to havediscovered the deception, for it was turning round to retreat. But the_crotalus_ is one of the most sluggish of snakes; and, before it couldget back within the log, the forked sapling descended upon its neck, andpinned it fast to the ground!

Its body now writhed over the grass in helpless contortions--aformidable creature to behold. It was a snake of the largest size forits species, being nearly eight feet in length, and as thick as thewrist of the Bambarra himself. Even he was astonished at itsproportions; and assured me it was the largest of its kind he had everencountered. 

I expected to see the black put an end to its struggles at once bykilling it; and I essayed to help him with my gun. 

"No, mass', " cried he, in a tone of entreaty, "for luv ob de Ormighty!don't fire de gun. Mass' forget dat dis poor nigga am runaway. "

I understood his meaning, and lowered the piece. 

"B'side, " continued he, "I'se got somethin' show mass' yet--he like seecurious thing--he like see de big snake trick?"

I replied in the affirmative. 

"Well, den, please, mass', hold dis stick. I for something go. Jes nowberry curious plant I see--berry curious--berry scace dat plant. I seedit in de cane-brake. Catch 'old, mass', while I go get um. "

I took hold of the sapling, and held it as desired, though not withoutsome apprehension of the hideous reptile that curled and writhed at myfeet. I had no need to fear, however. The fork was exactly across thesmall of the creature's neck, and it could not raise its head to strikeme. Large as it was, there was no danger from anything but its fangs;for the _crotalus_, unlike serpents of the genus _constrictor_, possesses but a very feeble power of compression. 

Gabriel had gone off among the bushes, and in a few minutes I saw himreturning. He carried in his hand a plant which, as before, he hadpulled up by the roots. Like the former, it was a herbaceous plant, butof a very different appearance. The leaves of this one wereheart-shaped and acuminate, its stem sinuous, and its flowers of a darkpurple colour. 

As the black approached, I saw that he was chewing some parts both ofthe leaves and root. What did he mean to do?

I was not left long in suspense. As soon as he had arrived upon theground, he stooped down, and spat a quantity of the juice over the headof the snake. Then, taking the sapling out of my hand, he plucked it upand flung it away. 

To my dismay, the snake was now set free; and I lost no time inspringing backward, and mounting upon the log. 

Not so my companion, who once more stooped down, caught hold of thehideous reptile, fearlessly raised it from the ground, and flung itaround his neck as coolly as if it had been a piece of rope!

The snake made no effort to bite him. Neither did it seem desirous ofescaping from his grasp. It appeared rather to be stupefied, andwithout the power of doing injury!

After playing with it for some moments, the Bambarra threw it back tothe ground. Even there it made no effort to escape!

The charmer now turned to me, and said, in a tone of triumph, "Now, mass' Edward, you shall hab rebenge. Look at dis!"

As he spoke he pressed his thumb against the fauces of the serpent, until its mouth stood wide open. I could plainly see its terrible fangsand poison glands. Then, holding its head close up to his lips, heinjected the dark saliva into its throat, and once more flung it to theground. Up to this time he had used no violence--nothing that wouldhave killed a creature so retentive of life as a snake; and I stillexpected to see the reptile make its escape. Not so, however. It madeno effort to move from the spot, but lay stretched out in looseirregular folds, without any perceptible motion beyond a slightquivering of the body. In less than two minutes after, this motionceased and the snake had all the appearance of being dead!

"It am dead, mass', " replied the black to my inquiring glance, "dead asJulium Caesar. "

"And what is this plant, Gabriel?"

"Ah, dat is a great yerb, mass'; dat is a scace plant--a berry scaceplant. Eat some ob dat--no snake bite you, as you jes seed. Dat is deplant ob de _snake-charmer_. "

The botanical knowledge of my sable companion went no farther. In afteryears, however, I was enabled to classify his "charm, " which was noother than the _Aristolochia serpentaria_--a species closely allied tothe "bejuco de guaco, " that alexipharmic rendered so celebrated by thepens of Mutis and Humboldt. 

My companion now desired me to chew some of the roots; for though he hadevery confidence in the other remedy, he deemed it no harm to makeassurance doubly sure. He extolled the virtues of the new-found plant, and told me he should have administered it instead of the seneca root, but he had despaired of finding it--as it was of much more rareoccurrence in that part of the country. 

I eagerly complied with his request, and swallowed some of the juice. Like the seneca root, it tasted hot and pungent, with something of theflavour of spirits of camphor. But the polygala is quite inodorous, while the guaco gives forth a strong aromatic smell, resemblingvalerian. 

I had already experienced relief--this would have given it to me almostinstantaneously. In a very short time time the swelling completelysubsided; and had it not been for the binding around my wrist, I shouldhave forgotten that I had been wounded. 

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. 

KILLING A TRAIL. 

An hour or more we had spent since entering the glade--now no longerterrible. Once more its flowers looked bright, and their perfume hadrecovered its sweetness. Once more the singing of the birds and the humof the insect-world fell soothingly upon my ears; and there, as before, sat the pretty doves, still repeating their soft "co-co-a"--theendearing expression of their loves. 

I could have lingered long in the midst of this fair scene--long haveenjoyed its sylvan beauty; but the intellectual must over yield to thephysical. I felt sensations of hunger, and soon the appetite began todistress me. Where was I to obtain relief from this pain--where obtainfood? I could not ask my companion to guide me to the plantations, nowthat I knew the risk he would run in so doing. I knew that it reallywas as he had stated--_the loss of an arm, perhaps of life, should he becaught_. There was but little hope of mercy for him--the less so as hehad no master with power to protect him, and who might be _interested_in his not being thus crippled!

By approaching the open country on the edge of the clearings, he wouldnot only run the hazard of being seen, but, what he feared still more, being _tracked by hounds_! This mode of searching for "runaways" wasnot uncommon, and there were even white men base enough to follow it asa calling! So learnt I from my companion. His information wasafterwards confirmed _by my own experience_!

I was hungry--what was to be done? I could not find my way alone. Imight again get lost, and have to spend the night in the swamp. Whathad I best do?

I appealed to my companion. He had been silent for some time--busy withhis thoughts. They were running on the same subject as my own. Thebrave fellow had not forgotten me. 

"Jes what dis nigga am thinkin' 'bout, " replied he. "Well, mass', " hecontinued, "when sun go down, den I guide you safe--no fear den. Gabr'ltake you close to de Lebee road. Mass' must wait till sun go down. "

"But--"

"Mass' hungry?" inquired he, interrupting me. 

I assented. 

"Jes thot so. Dar's nuffin' yeer to eat 'cept dis ole snake. Mass' nocare to eat snake: dis nigga eat 'im. Cook 'im at night, when smoke obde fire not seen ober de woods. Got place to cook 'im, mass' see. Gabr'l truss mass' Edwad. He take him to caboose ob de runaway. "

He had already cut off the head of the reptile while he was talking; andhaving pinned neck and tail together with a sharp stick, he lifted theglittering body, and flinging it over his shoulders, stood ready todepart. 

"Come, now, mass', " continued he, "come 'long wi' Ole Gabe; he find yousomethin' to eat. "

So saying, he turned round and walked off into the bushes. 

I took up my gun and followed. I could not do better. To haveattempted to find my own way back to the clearings might again haveresulted in failure, since I had twice failed. I had nothing to hurryme back. It would be quite as well if I returned to the village afternight--the more prudent course, in fact--as then my mud-bedaubed andblood-stained habiliments would be less likely to attract attention; andthis I desired to avoid. I was contented, therefore, to follow therunaway to his "lair, " and share it with him till after sunset. 

For some hundred yards he led on in silence. His eyes wandered aroundthe forest, as though he was seeking for something. They were notdirected upon the ground, but upward to the trees; and, therefore, Iknow it was not the path he was in search of. 

A slight exclamation escaped him, and, suddenly turning in his tracks, he struck off in a direction different to that we had been following. Iwalked after; and now saw that he had halted by a tall tree, and waslooking up among its branches. 

The tree was the frankincense, or loblolly pine (_Pinus toeda_). Thatmuch of botany I knew. I could tell the species by the large spinouscones and light-green needles. Why had he stopped there?

"Mass' Edwad soon see, " he said, in answer to my interrogatory. "Please, mass', " he continued, "hold de snake a bit--don't let um touchde groun'--dam dogs dey smell um!"

I relieved him of his burden; and, holding it as he desired, stoodwatching him in silence. 

The loblolly pine grows with a straight, naked shaft and pyramidal head, often without branches, to the height of fifty feet. In this case, however, several fronds stood out from the trunk, at less than twentyfeet from the ground. These were loaded with large green cones, fullfive inches in length; and it appeared to be these that my companiondesired to obtain--though for what purpose I had not the remotest idea. 

After a while he procured a long pole; and with the end of this knockeddown several of the cones, along with pieces of the branchlets to whichthey adhered. 

As soon as he believed he had a sufficient quantity for his purpose, hedesisted, and flung the pole away. 

What next? I watched with increasing interest. 

He now gathered up both the cones and the adhering spray; but to mysurprise he flung the former away. It was not the cones, then, hewanted, but the young shoots that grew on the very tops of the branches. These were of a brownish-red colour, and thickly coated with resin--forthe _Pinus taeda_ is more resinous than any tree of its kind--emitting astrong aromatic odour, which has given to it one of its trivial names. 

Having collected the shoots until he had both hands full, my guide nowbent down, and rubbed the resin over both the soles and upper surface ofhis coarse brogans. He then advanced to where I stood, stooped downagain, and treated my boots to a similar polishing!

"Now, mass', all right--de dam, blood-dogs no scent Ole Gabe now--dat_hill de trail_. Come, mass' Edwad, come 'long. "

Saying this, he again shouldered the snake and started off, leaving meto follow in his tracks. 

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. 

THE PIROGUE. 

We soon after entered the _cypriere_. There the surface was mostlywithout underwood. The black taxodiums, standing thickly, usurped theground, their umbellated crowns covered with hoary epiphytes, whosependulous drapery shut out the sun, that would otherwise have nourishedon that rich soil a luxuriant herbaceous vegetation. But we were nowwithin the limits of the annual inundation; and but few plants canthrive there. 

After a while I could see we were approaching a stagnant water. Therewas no perceptible descent, but the dank damp odour of the swamp, thenoise of the piping frogs, the occasional scream of some wading bird, orthe bellowing of the alligator, admonished me that some constant water--some lake or pond--was near. 

We were soon upon its margin. It was a large pond, though only a smallportion of it came under the eye; for, as far as I could see, thecypress-trees grew up out of the water, their huge buttresses spreadingout so as almost to touch each other! Here and there the black "knees"protruded above the surface, their fantastic shapes suggesting the ideaof horrid water-demons, and lending a supernatural character to thescene. Thus canopied over, the water looked black as ink, and theatmosphere felt heavy and oppressive. The picture was one from whichDante might have drawn ideas for his "Inferno. "

On arriving near this gloomy pond, my guide came to a stop. A huge treethat had once stood near the edge had fallen, and in such a positionthat its top extended far out into the water. Its branches were yetundecayed, and the parasites still clung to them in thick tufts, givingthe whole the appearance of a mass of hay loosely thrown together. Partof this was under water, but a still larger portion remained above thesurface, high and dry. It was at the root of this fallen tree that myguide had halted. 

He remained but a moment, waiting only till I came up. 

As soon as I had reached the spot, he mounted upon the trunk; and, beckoning me to follow him, walked along the log in the direction of itstop. I climbed up, and balancing myself as well as I could, followedhim out into the water. 

On reaching the head of the tree, we entered among the thick limbs; and, winding around these, kept still farther towards the top branches. Iexpected that there we should reach our resting-place. 

At length my companion came to a stop, and I now saw, to myastonishment, a small "pirogue" resting upon the water, and hidden underthe moss! So completely was it concealed, that it was not possible tohave seen it from any point except that where we now stood. 

"This, then, " thought I, "is the object for which we have crawled outupon the tree. "

The sight of the pirogue led me to conjecture that we had farther to go. The black now loosed the canoe from its moorings, and beckoned me toget in. 

I stepped into the frail craft and sat down. My companion followed, and, laying hold of the branches, impelled the vessel outward till itwas clear of the tops of the tree. Then, seizing the paddle, under itsrepeated strokes we passed silently over the gloomy surface of thewater. 

For the first two or three hundred yards our progress was but slow. Thecypress knees, and huge "buttocks" of the trees, stood thickly in theway, and it was necessary to observe some caution in working the piroguethrough among them. But I saw that my companion well understood the_manege_ of his craft, and wielded a "paddle" with the skill of aChippewa. He had the reputation of being a great "'coon-hunter" and"bayou fisherman;" and in these pursuits no doubt he had picked up hiscanoe-craft. 

It was the most singular voyage I had ever made. The pirogue floated inan element that more resembled ink than water. Not a ray of sun glancedacross our path. The darkness of twilight was above and around us. 

We glided along shadowy aisles, and amidst huge black trunks that roselike columns supporting a canopy of close-woven fronds. From thisvegetable root hung the mournful _bromelia_, sometimes drooping down tothe very surface of the water, so as to sweep our faces and shoulders aswe passed under it. 

We were not the only living things. Even this hideous place had itsdenizens. It was the haunt and secure abode of the great _saurian_, whose horrid form could be distinguished in the gloom, now crawlingalong some prostrate trunk, now half mounted upon the protruding kneesof the cypresses, or swimming with slow and stealthy stroke through theblack liquid. Huge water-snakes could be seen, causing a tiny ripple asthey passed from tree to tree, or lying coiled upon the projectingbuttocks. The swamp-owl hovered on silent wing, and large brown batspursued their insect prey. Sometimes these came near, fluttering in ourvery faces, so that we could perceive the mephitic odour of theirbodies, while their horny jaws gave forth a noise like the clinking ofcastanets. 

The novelty of the scene interested me; but I could not help beingimpressed with a slight feeling of awe. Classic memories, too, stirredwithin me. The fancies of the Roman poet were here realised. I wasupon the Styx, and in my rower I recognised the redoubtable Charon. 

Suddenly a light broke through the gloom. A few more strokes of thepaddle, and the pirogue shot out into the bright sunlight. What arelief!

I now beheld a space of open water, --a sort of circular lake. It was inreality the lake, for what we had been passing over was but theinundation; and at certain seasons this portion covered with forestbecame almost dry. The open water, on the contrary, was constant, andtoo deep even for the swamp-loving cypress to grow in it. 

The space thus clear of timber was not of very large extent, --a surfaceof half-a-mile or so. On all sides it was enclosed by the moss-drapedforest that rose around it, like a grey wall; and in the very centregrew a clump of the same character, that in the distance appeared to bean island. 

This solitary tarn was far from being silent. On the contrary, it was ascene of stirring life. It seemed the rendezvous for the many speciesof wild winged creatures that people the great _marais_ of Louisiana. There were the egrets, the ibises--both white and scarlet--the variousspecies of _Ardeidae_, the cranes, and the red flamingoes. There, too, was the singular and rare darter, swimming with body immersed, andsnake-like head just appearing above the water; and there were the whiteunwieldy forms of the tyrant pelicans standing on the watch for theirfinny prey. Swimming birds speckled the surface; various species of_Anatidae_--swans, geese, and ducks, --while the air was filled withflights of gulls and curlews, or was cut by the strong whistling wingsof the mallards. 

Other than waterfowl had chosen this secluded spot for their favouritedwelling-place. The osprey could be seen wheeling about in the air, nowshooting down like a star upon the unfortunate fish that had approachedtoo near the surface, and anon yielding up his prey to the tyrant_Haliaetus_. Such were the varied forms of feathered creatures thatpresented themselves to my eye on entering this lonely lake of thewoods. 

I looked with interest upon the scene. It was a true scene of nature, and made a vivid impression upon me at the moment. Not so with mycompanion, to whom it was neither novel nor interesting. It was an oldpicture to his eyes, and he saw it from a different point of view. Hedid not stay to look at it, but, lightly dipping his paddle, pressed thepirogue on in the direction of the island. 

A few strokes carried us across the open water, and the canoe once moreentered under the shadow of trees. But to my surprise, _there was noisland_! What I had taken for an island was but a single cypress-tree, that grew upon a spot where the lake was shallow. Its branchesextending on every side were loaded with the hoary parasites thatdrooped down to the very surface of the water, and shadowed a space ofhalf an acre in extent. Its trunk rested upon a base of enormousdimensions. Huge buttresses flanked it on every side, slanting out intothe water and rising along its stem to a height of many yards, the wholemass appearing as large as an ordinary cabin. Its sides were indentedwith deep bays; and, as we approached under the screen, I could perceivea dark cavity which showed that this singular "buttock" was hollowwithin. 

The bow of the pirogue was directed into one of the bays, and soonstruck against the tree. I saw several steps cut into the wood, andleading to the cavity above. My companion pointed to these steps. Thescreaming of the startled birds prevented me from hearing what he said, but I saw that it was a sign for me to mount upward. I hastened to obeyhis direction; and, climbing out of the canoe, sprawled up the slopingridge. 

At the top was the entrance, just large enough to admit the body of aman; and, pressing through this, I stood inside the hollow tree. 

We had reached our destination--I was in the _lair of the runaway_!

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. 

THE TREE-CAVERN. 

The interior was dark, and it was some time before I could distinguishany object. Presently my eyes became accustomed to the sombre light, and I was enabled to trace the outlines of this singular tree-cavern. 

Its dimensions somewhat astonished me. A dozen men could have beenaccommodated in it, and there was ample room for that number eithersitting or standing. In fact, the whole pyramidal mass which supportedthe tree was nothing more than a thin shell, all the heart havingperished by decay. The floor, by the falling of this _debris_ of rottenwood, was raised above the level of the water, and felt firm and dryunderfoot. Near its centre I could perceive the ashes and half-burntembers of an extinct fire; and along one side was strewed a thickcovering of dry _tillandsia_, that had evidently been used as a bed. Anold blanket lying upon the moss gave further testimony that this was itspurpose. 

There was no furniture. A rude block, --a cypress knee that had beencarried there--formed, the only substitute for a chair, and there wasnothing to serve for a table. He who had made this singular cave hisresidence required no luxuries to sustain him. Necessaries, however, hehad provided. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the light, I couldmake out a number of objects I had not at first seen. An earthencooking-pot, a large water gourd, a tin cup, an old axe, somefishing-tackle, and one or two coarse rags of clothing. What interestedme more than all these was the sight of several articles that were_eatable_. There was a good-sized "chunk" of cooked pork, a gigantic"pone" of corn-bread, several boiled ears of maize, and the better halfof a roast fowl. All these lay together upon a large wooden dish, rudely carved from the wood of the tulip-tree--of such a fashion as Ihad often observed about the cabins of the negro quarter. Beside thisdish lay several immense egg-shaped bodies of dark-green colour, withother smaller ones of a yellow hue. These were water and musk melons, --not a bad prospect for a dessert. 

I had made this reconnoissance while my companion was engaged infastening his pirogue to the tree. I had finished my survey as heentered. 

"Now, mass', " said he, "dis am ole Gabe's nest; de dam man-hunter nofound 'im yeer. "

"Why, you are quite at home here, Gabriel! How did you ever find such aplace?"

"Lor', mass', knowd it long time. He not de fust darkie who hid in disold cypress, --nor de fust time for Gabr'l neider. He runaway afore, --dat war when he libbed with Mass' Hicks, 'fore ole mass' bought him. Henebber had 'casion to run away from old Mass 'Sancon. He good to debrack folks, and so war Mass Antoine--he good too, but now de poor niggacan't stan no longer; de new oberseer, he flog hard, --he flog till doblood come, --he use de cobbin board, an dat pump, an de red cowhide, ande wagon whip, --ebberything he use, --dam! I nebber go back, --nebber!"

"But how do you intend to live? you can't always exist in this way. Where will you get your provisions?"

"Nebber fear, mass' Edwad, always get nuff to eat; no fear for dat. Dapoor runaway hab some friend on de plantations. Beside he steal nuff tokeep 'im 'live--hya! hya!"

"Oh!"

"Gabr'l no need steal now, 'ceptin' de roasting yeers and de millyuns. See! what Zip fetch im! Zip come las night to de edge ob de woods an'fetch all dat plunder. But, mass', you 'skoose me. Forgot you amhungry. Hab some pork some chicken. Chloe cook 'em--is good--you eat. "

So saying he set the wooden platter with its contents before me; and theconversation was now interrupted, as both myself and my companionattacked the viands with right good-will. 

The "millyuns" constituted a delicious dessert, and for a full half-hourwe continued to fight against the appetite of hunger. We conquered itat length, but not until the store of the runaway had been greatlyreduced in bulk. 

After dinner we sat conversing for a long time. We were not without thesoothing nicotian weed. My companion had several bunches of drytobacco-leaf among his stores; and a corn-cob with a piece of cane-jointserved for a pipe, through which the smoke was inhaled with all thearomatic fragrance of the costliest Havanna. 

Partly from gratitude for the saving of my life, I had grown to feel astrong interest in the runaway, and his future prospects became thesubject of our converse. He had formed no plan of escape--though somethoughts of an attempt to reach Canada or Mexico, or to get off in aship by New Orleans, had passed through his mind. 

A plan occurred to me, though I did not communicate it to him, as Imight never be able to carry it out. I begged of him, however, not toleave his present abode until I could see him again, promising that Ishould do what I could to find him a kinder master. 

He readily agreed to my proposal; and as it was now sunset, I madepreparations for my departure from the lake. 

A signal was agreed upon, so that when I should return to visit him, hecould bring the pirogue to ferry me across; and this being arranged, weonce more entered the canoe, and set out for the plantations. 

We soon recrossed the lake; and, leaving the little boat safely mooredby the fallen tree, started off through the woods. The path, withGabriel for my guide, was now easy; and at intervals, as we went along, he directed my attention to certain blazes upon the trees, and othermarks by which I should know it again. 

In less than an hour after, we parted on the edge of the clearings--hegoing to some rendezvous already appointed--whilst I kept on to thevillage, the road to which now ran between parallel fences that renderedit impossible for me to go astray. 

CHAPTER FORTY. 

HOTEL GOSSIP. 

It was yet early when I entered the village. I glided stealthilythrough the streets, desirous to avoid observation. Unfortunately I hadto pass through the bar of the hotel in order to reach my room. It wasjust before the hour of supper, and the guests had assembled in the barsaloon and around the porch. 

My tattered habiliments, in places stained with blood, and profuselysoiled with mud, could not escape notice; nor did they. Men turned andgazed after me. Loiterers looked with eyes that expressed theirastonishment. Some in the portico, and others in the bar, hailed me asI passed, asking me where I had been to. One cried out: "Hillow, mister! you've had a tussle with the cats: hain't you?"

I did not make reply. I pushed on up-stairs, and found relief in theprivacy of my chamber. 

I had been badly torn by the bushes. My wounds needed dressing. Idespatched a messenger for Reigart. Fortunately he was at home, and ina few minutes followed my messenger to the hotel. He entered my room, and stood staring at me with a look of surprise. 

"My dear R--, where have you been?" he inquired at length. 

"To the swamp. "

"And those wounds--your clothes torn--blood?"

"Thorn-scratches--that's all. "

"But where have you been?"

"In the swamp. "

"In the swamp! but how came you to get such a mauling?"

"I have been bitten by a rattlesnake. "

"What! bitten by a rattlesnake? Do you speak seriously?"

"Quite true it is--but I have taken the antidote. I am cured. "

"Antidote! Cured! And what cure? who gave you an antidote?"

"A friend whom I met in the swamp!"

"A friend in the swamp!" exclaimed Reigart, his astonishment increasing. 

I had almost forgotten the necessity of keeping my secret. I saw that Ihad spoken imprudently. Inquisitive eyes were peeping in at the door. Ears were listening to catch every sound. 

Although the inhabitant of the Mississippi is by no means of a curiousdisposition--_malgre_ the statements of gossiping tourists--theunexplained and forlorn appearance I presented on my return was enoughto excite a degree of interest even among the most apathetic people; anda number of the guests of the hotel had gathered in the lobby around thedoor of my chamber, and were eagerly asking each other what had happenedto me. I could overhear their conversation, though they did not knowit. 

"He's been fightin' a painter?" said one, interrogatively. 

"A painter or a bar, " answered another. 

"'Twur some desprit varmint anyhow--it hez left its mark on him, --thatit hez. "

"It's the same fellow that laid out Bully Bill: ain't it?"

"The same, " replied some one. 

"English, ain't he?"

"Don't know. He's a Britisher, I believe. English, Irish, or Scotch, he's a hull team an' a cross dog under the wagon. By God! he laid outBully Bill straight as a fence-rail, wi' nothin' but a bit o' a whup, and then tuk Bill's pistols away from him! Ha! ha! ha!"

"Jehosophat!"

"He's jest a feller to whip his weight in wild-cats. He's killed thecatamount, I reckon. "

"No doubt he's done that. "

I had supposed that my encounter with Bully Bill had made me enemiesamong his class. It was evident from the tone and tenor of theirconversation that such was not the case. Though, perhaps, a littlepiqued that a stranger--a mere youth as I then was--should haveconquered one of their bullies, these backwoodsmen are not intenselyclannish, and Bully Bill was no favourite. Had I "whipped" him on anyother grounds, I should have gained a positive popularity by the act. But in defence of a slave--and I a foreigner--a Britisher, too--that wasa presumption not to be pardoned. That was the drawback on my victory, and henceforth I was likely to be a "marked man" in the neighbourhood. 

These observations had served to amuse me while I was awaiting thearrival of Reigart, though, up to a certain point, I took but littleinterest in them. A remark that now reached my ears, however, suddenlychanged the nature of my thoughts. It was this:--

"_He's after Miss Besancon, they say_. "

I was now interested. I stepped to the door, and, placing my ear closeto the keyhole, listened. 

"I guess he's arter _the plantation_, " said another; and the remark wasfollowed by a significant laugh. 

"Well, then, " rejoined a voice, in a more solemn and emphatic tone, "he's after what he won't get. "

"How? how?" demanded several. 

"He may get _thee_ lady, preehaps, " continued the same voice, in thesame measured tones; "but not _thee_ plantation. "

"How? What do you mean, Mr Moxley?" again demanded the chorus ofvoices. 

"I mean what I say, gentlemen, " replied the solemn speaker; and thenrepeated again his former words in a like measured drawl. "He may getthe lady, _pree_haps, but not _thee_ plantation. "

"Oh! the report's true, then?" said another voice, interrogatively. "Insolvent? Eh? Old Gayarre--"

"Owns _thee_ plantation. "

"And niggers?"

"Every skin o' them; the sheriff will take possession to-morrow. "

A murmur of astonishment reached my ears. It was mingled withexpressions of disapprobation or sympathy. 

"Poor girl! it's a pity o' _her_!"

"Well, it's no wonder. She made the money fly since the old 'un died. "

"Some say he didn't leave so much after all. 'Twar most part mortgagedbefore--"

The entrance of the doctor interrupted this conversation, and relievedme for the moment from the torture which it was inflicting upon me. 

"A friend in the swamp, did you say?" again interrogated Reigart. 

I had hesitated to reply, thinking of the crowd by the door. I said tothe doctor in a low earnest voice--

"My dear friend, I have met with an adventure; am badly scratched, asyou see. Dress my wounds, but do not press me for details. I have myreasons for being silent. You will one day learn all, but not now. Therefore--"

"Enough, enough!" said the doctor, interrupting me; "do not be uneasy. Let me look at your scratches. "

The good doctor became silent, and proceeded to the dressing of mywounds. 

Under other circumstances the manipulation of my wounds, for they nowfelt painful, might have caused me annoyance. It did not then. What Ihad just heard had produced a feeling within that neutralised theexternal pain, and I felt it not. 

I was really in mental agony. 

I burned with impatience to question Reigart about the affairs of theplantation, --about Eugenie and Aurore. I could not, --we were not alone. The landlord of the hotel and a negro attendant had entered the room, and were assisting the doctor in his operations. I could not trustmyself to speak on such a subject in their presence. I was forced tonurse my impatience until all was over, and both landlord and servanthad left us. 

"Now, doctor, this news of Mademoiselle Besancon?"

"Do _you_ not know all?"

"Only what I have heard this moment from those gossips outside theroom. "

I detailed to Reigart the remarks that had been made. 

"Really I thought you must have been acquainted with the whole matter. I had fancied that to be the cause of your long absence to-day; though Idid not even conjecture how you might be engaged in the matter. "

"I know nothing more than what I have thus accidentally overheard. Forheaven's sake tell me all! Is it true?"

"Substantially true, I grieve to say. "

"Poor Eugenie!"

"The estate was heavily mortgaged to Gayarre. I have long suspectedthis, and fear there has been some foul play. Gayarre has foreclosedthe mortgage, and, indeed, it is said, is already in possession. Everything is now his. "

"Everything?"

"Everything upon the plantation. "

"The slaves?"

"Certainly. "

"All--all--and--and--Aurore?"

I hesitated as I put the interrogatory, Reigart had no knowledge of myattachment to Aurore. 

"The quadroon girl, you mean?--of course, she with the others. She isbut a slave like the rest. She will be sold. "

"_But a slave! sold with the rest_!"

This reflection was not uttered aloud. 

I cannot describe the tumult of my feelings as I listened. The bloodwas boiling within my veins, and I could scarce restrain myself fromsome wild expression. I strove to the utmost to hide my thoughts, butscarce succeeded; for I noticed that the usually cold eye of Reigart waskindled in surprise at my manner. If he divined my secret he wasgenerous, for he asked no explanation. 

"The slaves are all to be sold then?" I faltered out. 

"No doubt, --everything will be sold, --that is the law in such cases. Itis likely Gayarre will buy in the whole estate, as the plantation liescontiguous to his own. "

"Gayarre! villain! oh! And Mademoiselle Besancon, what will become ofher? Has she no friends?"

"I have heard something of an aunt who has some, though not much, property. She lives in the city. It is likely that Mademoiselle willlive with her in future. I believe the aunt has no children of her own, and Eugenie will inherit. This, however, I cannot vouch for. I know itonly as a rumour. "

Reigart spoke these words in a cautious and reserved manner. I noticedsomething peculiar in the tone in which he uttered them; but I knew hisreason for being cautious. He was under a mistaken impression as to thefeelings with which I regarded Eugenie! I did not undeceive him. 

"Poor Eugenie! a double sorrow, --no wonder at the change I had observedof late, --no wonder she appeared sad!"

All this was but my own silent reflections. 

"Doctor!" said I, elevating my voice; "I must go to the plantation. "

"Not to-night!"

"To-night, --now!"

"My dear Mr E. , you must not. "

"Why?"

"It is impossible, --I cannot permit it, --you will have a fever; it maycost you your life!"

"But--"

"I cannot hear you. I assure you, you are now on the verge of a fever. You must remain in your room--at least, until to-morrow. Perhaps thenyou may go out with safety. Now it is impossible. "

I was compelled to acquiesce, though I am not certain but that had Itaken my own way it would have been better for my "fever. " Within mewas a _cause of fever_ much stronger than any exposure to the night air. My throbbing heart and wildly-coursing blood soon acted upon my brain. 

"Aurore the slave of Gayarre! Ha! ha! ha! His slave! Gayarre!Aurore! ha! ha! ha! Is it his throat I clutch? ha, no! It is theserpent! here--help--help! Water! water! I am choking. No, Gayarreis! I have him now! Again it is the serpent! O God! it coils aroundmy throat--it strangles me! Help! Aurore! lovely Aurore! do not yieldto him!"

"I will die rather than yield!"

"I thought so, noble girl! I come to release you! How she struggles inhis grasp! Fiend! off--off, fiend! Aurore, you are free--free! Angelsof heaven!"

Such was my dream, --the dream of a fevered brain. 

CHAPTER FORTY ONE. 

THE LETTER. 

During all the night my sleep was broken at intervals, and the hoursdivided between dreaming and half delirium. 

I awoke in the morning not much refreshed with my night's rest. I layfor some time passing over in my mind the occurrences of yesterday, andconsidering what course I should pursue. 

After a time I determined upon going direct to the plantation, andlearning for myself how matters stood there. 

I arose with this intention. As I was dressing, my eye fell upon aletter that lay upon the table. It bore no postmark, but the writingwas in a female hand, and I guessed whence it came. 

I tore open the seal, and read:--

"_Monsieur_!

"_To-day, by the laws of Louisiana, I am a woman, --and none more unhappyin all the land. The same sun that has risen upon the natal day of mymajority looks down upon the ruin of my fortune_!

"_It was my design to have made_ you _happy: to have proved that I amnot ungrateful. Alas! it is no longer in my power. I am, no more theproprietor of the plantation Besancon_, --_no more the mistress ofAurore! All is gone from me, and Eugenie Besancon is now a beggar. Ah, Monsieur! it is a sad tale, and I know not what will be its end_. 

"_Alas! there are griefs harder to hear than the loss of fortune. Thatmay in time be repaired, but the anguish of unrequited love_, --_lovestrong, and single, and pure, as mine is_, --_must long endure, perchancefor ever_!

"_Know, Monsieur, that in the bitter cup it is my destiny to drink, there is not one drop of jealousy or reproach. I alone have made themisery that is my portion_. 

"_Adieu, Monsieur! adieu, and farewell! It is better we should nevermeet again. O be happy! no plaint of mine shall ever reach your ear, tocloud the sunshine of your happiness. Henceforth the walls of_ SacreCoeur _shall alone witness the sorrows of the unfortunate but grateful_. 

"Eugenie. "

The letter was dated the day before. I knew that that was the birthdayof the writer; in common parlance, the day on which she was "of age. "

"Poor Eugenie!" reflected I. "Her happiness has ended with hergirlhood. Poor Eugenie!"

The tears ran fast over my cheeks as I finished reading. I swept themhastily away, and ringing the bell I ordered my horse to be saddled. Ihurried through with my toilet; the horse was soon brought to the door;and, mounting him, I rode rapidly for the plantation. 

Shortly after leaving the village, I passed two men, who were also onhorseback--going in the same direction as myself, but riding at a slowerpace than I. They were dressed in the customary style of planters, anda casual observer might have taken them for such. There was somethingabout them, however, that led me to think they were not planters, normerchants, nor men whose calling relates to any of the ordinaryindustries of life. It was not in their dress I saw this something, butin a certain expression of countenance. This expression I cannot welldescribe, but I have ever noticed it in the faces and features of menwho have anything to do with the execution of the laws. Even inAmerica, where distinctive costume and badge are absent, I have beenstruck with this peculiarity, --so much so that I believe I could detecta detective in the plainest clothes. 

The two men in question had this expression strongly marked. I had nodoubt they were in some way connected with the execution of the laws. Ihad no doubt they were constables or sheriff's officers. With such aslight glance as I gave to them in passing, I might not have troubledmyself with this conjecture, had it not been for other circumstancesthen in my thoughts. 

I had not saluted these men; but as I passed, I could perceive that mypresence was not without interest to them. On glancing back, I saw thatone of them had ridden close up to the other, that they were conversingearnestly; and from their gestures I could tell that I was the subjectof their talk. 

I had soon ridden far ahead, and ceased to think any more about them. 

I had hurried forward without any preconceived plan of action. I hadacted altogether on the impulse of the moment, and thought only ofreaching the house, and ascertaining the state of affairs, either fromEugenie or Aurore herself. 

Thus _impromptu_ I had reached the borders of the plantation. 

It now occurred to me to ride more slowly, in oder to gain a few momentsto manage my thoughts. I even halted awhile. There was a slight bendin the river-bank, and the road crossed this like a chord to its arc. The part cut off was a piece of waste--a common--and as there was nofence I forsook the road, and walked my horse out on the river-bank. There I drew up, but remained seated in my saddle. 

I endeavoured to sketch out some plan of action. What should I say toEugenie? what to Aurore? Would the former see me after what she hadwritten? In her note she had said "farewell, " but it was not a time tostand upon punctilious ceremony. And if not, should I find anopportunity to speak with Aurore? I _must_ see _her_. Who shouldprevent me? I had much to say to her; my heart was full. Nothing butan interview with my betrothed could relieve it. 

Still without any definite plan, I once more turned my horse's head downthe river, used the spur, and galloped onward. 

On arriving near the gate I was somewhat surprised to see two saddledhorses standing there. I instantly recognised them as the horses I hadpassed on the road. They had overtaken me again while I was halted bythe bend of the river, and had arrived at the gate before me. Thesaddles were now empty. The riders had gone into the house. 

A black man was holding the horses. It was my old friend "Zip. "

I rode up, and without dismounting addressed myself to Scipio. Who werethey who had gone in?

I was hardly surprised at the answer. My conjecture was right. Theywere men of the law, --the deputy sheriff of the _parish_ and hisassistant. 

It was scarce necessary to inquire their _business_. I guessed that. 

I only asked Scipio the details. 

Briefly Scipio gave them; at least so far as I allowed him to proceedwithout interruption. A sheriff's officer was in charge of the houseand all its contents; Larkin still ruled the negro quarter, but theslaves were all to be sold; Gayarre was back and forward; and "_Missa'Genie am gone away_. "

"Gone away! and whither?"

"Don't know, mass'r. B'lieve she gone to de city. She leab last nightin de night-time. "

"And--"

I hesitated a moment till my heart should still its heavy throbbings. 

"Aurore?" I interrogated with an effort. 

"'Rore gone too, mass'r;--she gone long wi' Missa 'Genie. "

"Aurore gone!"

"Yes, mass'r, she gone; daat's de troof. "

I was astounded by the information, as well as puzzled by thismysterious departure. Eugenie gone and in the night! Aurore gone withher! What could it mean? Whither had they gone?

My reiterated appeal to the black threw no light upon the subject. Hewas ignorant of all their movements, --ignorant of everything but whatrelated to the negro quarter. He had heard that himself, his wife, hisdaughter, --"the leetle Chloe, "--with all their fellow-slaves, were to becarried down to the city, and to be sold in the slave-market by auction. They were to be taken the following day. They were already advertised. That was all he knew. No, not all, --one other piece of information hehad in store for me. It was authentic: he had heard the "white folks"talk of it to one another:--Larkin, Gayarre, and a "negro-trader, " whowas to be concerned in this sale. It regarded the quadroon. _She wasto be sold among the rest_!

The blood boiled in my veins as the black imparted this information. Itwas authentic. Scipio's statement of what he had heard, minutelydetailed, bore the internal evidence of authenticity. I could not doubtthe report. I felt the conviction that it was true. 

The plantation Besancon had no more attractions. I had no longer anybusiness at Bringiers. New Orleans was now the scene of action for me!

With a kind word to Scipio, I wheeled my horse and galloped away fromthe gate. The fiery animal caught my excitement, and sprang wildlyalong the road. It required all his buoyant spirit to keep pace withthe quick dancing of my nerves. 

In a few minutes I had consigned him to his groom; and, climbing to mychamber, commenced preparing for my departure. 

CHAPTER FORTY TWO. 

THE WHARF-BOAT. 

I now only waited a boat to convey me to New Orleans. I knew that Ishould not have long to wait. The annual epidemic was on the decline, and the season of business and pleasure in the "Crescent City" was aboutcommencing. Already the up-river steamers were afloat on all thetributary streams of the mighty Mississippi, laden with the produce ofits almost limitless valley, and converging towards the great Southernentrepot of American commerce. I might expect a "down-boat" every day, or rather indeed every hour. 

I resolved to take the first boat that came along. 

The hotel in which I dwelt, as well as the whole village, stood at aconsiderable distance from the boat landing. It had been built so fromprecaution. The banks of the Mississippi at this place, and for athousand miles above and below, are elevated but a few feet above thesurface level of its water; and, in consequence of the continuousdetrition, it is no uncommon occurrence for large slips to give way, andbe swept off in the red whirling current. It might be supposed that intime this never-ceasing action of the water would widen the stream tounnatural dimensions. But, no. For every encroachment on one bankthere is a corresponding formation against the opposite, --a depositcaused by the eddy which the new curve has produced, so that the riverthus preserves its original breadth. This remarkable action may benoted from the _embouchure_ of the Ohio to the mouth of the Mississippiitself, though at certain points the extent of the encroachment and theformation that neutralises it is much greater than at others. In someplaces the "wearing away" of the bank operates so rapidly that in a fewdays the whole site of a village, or even a plantation, may disappear. Not unfrequently, too, during the high spring-floods this eccentricstream takes a "near cut" across the neck of one of its own "bends, " andin a few hours a channel is formed, through which pours the wholecurrent of the river. Perhaps a plantation may have been established inthe concavity of this bend, --perhaps three or four of them, --and theplanter who has gone to sleep under the full belief that he had builthis house upon a _continent_, awakes in the morning to find himself theinhabitant of an island! With dismay he beholds the vast volume ofred-brown water rolling past, and cutting off his communication with themainland. He can no longer ride to his neighbouring village without theaid of an expensive ferry. His wagons will no longer serve him to"haul" to market his huge cotton-bales or hogsheads of sugar andtobacco; and, prompted by a feeling of insecurity--lest the next wildsweep of the current may carry himself, his house, and his severalhundred half-naked negroes along with it--he flees from his home, andretires to some other part of the stream, where he may deem the land inless danger of such unwelcome intrusion. 

In consequence of these eccentricities a safe site for a town isextremely rare upon the Lower Mississippi. There are but few points inthe last five hundred miles of its course where natural elevations offerthis advantage. The artificial embankment, known as the "Levee, " has insome measure remedied the deficiency, and rendered the towns andplantations _comparatively_ secure. 

As already stated, my hotel was somewhat out of the way. A boat mighttouch at the landing and be off again without my being warned of it. Adown-river-boat, already laden, and not caring to obtain furtherfreight, would not stop long; and in a "tavern" upon the Mississippi youmust not confide in the punctuality of "Boots, " as you would in a Londonhotel. Your chances of being waked by Sambo, ten times sleepier thanyourself, are scarcely one in a hundred. 

I had ample experience of this; and, fearing that the boat might pass ifI remained at the hotel, I came to the resolve to settle my affairs inthat quarter and at once transport myself and my _impedimenta_ to thelanding. 

I should not be entirely without shelter. There was no house; but anold steamboat, long since condemned as not "river-worthy, " lay at thelanding. This hulk, moored by strong cables to the bank, formed anexcellent floating wharf; while its spacious deck, cabins, and saloons, served as a storehouse for all sorts of merchandise. It was, in fact, used both as a landing and warehouse, and was known as the "wharf-boat. "

It was late, --nearly midnight, --as I stepped aboard the wharf-boat. Stragglers from the town, who may have had business there, had all goneaway, and the owner of the store-boat was himself absent. A drowsynegro, his _locum tenens_, was the only human thing that offered itselfto my eyes. The lower deck of the boat was tenanted by this individual, who sat behind a counter that enclosed one corner of the apartment. Upon this counter stood a pair of scales, with weights, a large ball ofcoarse twine, a rude knife, and such other implements as may be seen ina country "store;" and upon shelves at the back were ranged bottles ofcoloured liquors, glasses, boxes of hard biscuit, "Western reserve"cheeses, kegs of rancid butter, plugs of tobacco, and bundles ofinferior cigars, --in short, all the etceteras of a regular "grocery. "The remaining portion of the ample room was littered with merchandise, packed in various forms. There were boxes, barrels, bags, and bales;some on their way up-stream, that had come by New Orleans from distantlands, while others were destined downward: the rich product of thesoil, to be borne thousands of miles over the wide Atlantic. With thesevarious packages every part of the floor was occupied, and I looked invain for a spot on which to stretch myself. A better light might haveenabled me to discover such a place; but the tallow candle, gutteringdown the sides of an empty champagne-bottle, but dimly lit up theconfusion. It just sufficed to guide me to the only occupant of theplace, upon whose sombre face the light faintly flickered. 

"Asleep, uncle?" I said, approaching him. 

A gruff reply from an American negro is indeed a rarity, and never givento a question politely put. The familiar style of my address touched asympathetic chord in the bosom of the "darkie, " and a smile ofsatisfaction gleamed upon his features as he made answer. Of course hewas _not_ asleep. But my idle question was only meant as the prelude tofurther discourse. 

"Ah, Gollys! it be massa Edward. Uncle Sam know'd you, massa Edward. You good to brack folk. Wat can do uncle Sam for massa?"

"I am going down to the city, and have come here to wait for a boat. Isit likely one will pass to-night?"

"Sure, massa--sure be a boat dis night. Bossy 'spect a boat from de Redribber dis berry night--either de Houma or de Choctuma. "

"Good! and now, uncle Sam, if you will find me six feet of level plank, and promise to rouse me when the boat comes in sight, I shall not grudgeyou this half dollar. "

The sudden enlargement of the whites of undo Sam's eyes showed thesatisfaction he experienced at the sight of the shining piece of metal. Without more ado he seized the champagne-bottle that hold the candle;and, gliding among the boxes and bales, conducted me to a stairway thatled to the second or cabin-deck of the boat. We climbed up, and enteredthe saloon. 

"Dar, massa, plenty of room--uncle Sam he sorry dar's ne'er a bed, butif massa could sleep on these yeer coffee-bags, he berry welcome--berrywelcome. I leave dis light wi' massa. I can get anoder for self b'low. Good night, massa Edward--don't fear I wake you--no fear ob dat. "

And so saying, the kind-hearted black set the bottle-candlestick uponthe floor; and, passing down the stair again, left me to my reflections. 

With such poor light as the candle afforded, I took a careless survey ofmy apartment. There was plenty of room, as uncle Sam had said. It wasthe cabin of the old steamboat; and as the partition-doors had beenbroken off and carried away, the ladies' cabin, main saloon, and front, were now all in one. Together they formed a hall of more than a hundredfeet in length, and from where I stood, near the centre, both ends werelost to my view in the darkness. The state-rooms on each side werestill there, with their green Venetian doors. Some of these were shut, while others stood ajar, or quite open. The gilding and ornaments, dimfrom age and use, adorned the sides and ceiling of the hall; and overthe arched entrance of the main saloon the word "Sultana, " in goldletters that still glittered brightly, informed me that I was now insidethe "carcase" of one of the most famous boats that ever cleft the watersof the Mississippi. 

Strange thoughts came into my mind as I stood regarding this desolatesaloon. Silent and solitary it seemed--even more so I thought thanwould some lonely spot in the midst of a forest. The very absence ofthose sounds that one is accustomed to hear in such a place--thegrinding of the machinery--the hoarse detonations of the 'scape-pipe--the voices of men--the busy hum of conversation, or the ringing laugh--the absence of the sights, too--the brilliant chandeliers--the longtables sparkling with crystal--the absence of these, and yet thepresence of the scene associated with such sights and sounds--gave tothe place an air of indescribable desolation. I felt as one within theruins of some old convent, or amidst the tombs of an antique cemetery. 

No furniture of any kind relieved the monotony of the place. The onlyvisible objects were the coarse gunny-bags strewed over the floor, andupon which uncle Sam had made me welcome to repose myself. 

After surveying my odd chamber, and giving way to some singularreflections, I began to think of disposing of myself for sleep. I waswearied. My health was not yet restored. The clean bast of thecoffee-bags looked inviting. I dragged half-a-dozen of them together, placed them side by side, and then, throwing myself upon my back, drewmy cloak over me. The coffee-berries yielded to the weight of my body, giving me a comfortable position, and in less than five minutes I fellasleep. 

CHAPTER FORTY THREE. 

THE NORWAY RAT. 

I must have slept an hour or more. I did not think of consulting mywatch before going to sleep, and I had little thought about such a thingafter I awoke. But that I had slept at least an hour, I could tell bythe length of my candle. 

A fearful hour that was, as any I can remember to have spent--an hour ofhorrid dreaming. But I am wrong to call it so. It was no dream, thoughat the time I thought it one. 

Listen!

As I have said, I lay down upon my back, covering myself with my amplecloak from the chin to the ankles. My face and feet were alone free. Ihad placed one of the bags for a pillow, and thus raised my head in sucha position, that I had a full view of the rest of my person. The light, set just a little way beyond my heels, was right before my eyes; and Icould see the floor in that direction to the distance of several yards. I have said that in five minutes I was asleep. I thought that I wasasleep, and to this hour I think so, and yet my eyes were open, and Iplainly saw the candle before them and that portion of the floorillumined by its rays. I thought that I endeavoured to close my eyes, but could not; nor could I change my position, but lay regarding thelight and the surface of the floor around it. Presently a strange sightwas presented to me. A number of small shining objects began to danceand scintillate in the darkness beyond. At first I took them for"lightning-bugs, " but although these were plenty enough without, it wasnot usual to find them inside an enclosed apartment. Moreover, those Isaw were low down upon the floor of the saloon, and not suspended in theair, as they should have been. 

Gradually the number of these shining objects increased. There were nowsome dozens of them, and, what was singular, they seemed to move inpairs. They were _not_ fire-flies!

I began to experience a sensation of alarm. I began to feel that therewas danger in these fiery spots, that sparkled in such numbers along thefloor. What on earth could they be?

I had scarce asked myself the question, when I was enabled to answer itto the satisfaction of my senses, but not to the tranquillising of myfears. The horrid truth now flashed upon me--each pair of sparklingpoints was a _pair of eyes_!

It was no relief to me to know they were the eyes of rats. You maysmile at my fears; but I tell you in all seriousness that I would nothave been more frightened had I awaked and found a panther crouching tospring upon me. I had heard such tales of these Norway rats--had, infact, been witness to their bold and ferocious feats in New Orleans, where at that time they swarmed in countless numbers--that the sight ofthem filled me with disgust and horror. But what was most horrible ofall--I saw that they were approaching me--that they were each momentcoming nearer and nearer, and that _I was unable to get out of theirway_!

Yes. I could not move. My arms and limbs felt like solid blocks ofstone, and my muscular power was quite gone! I _now_ thought that I was_dreaming_!

"Yes!" reflected I, for I still possessed the power of reflection. "Yes--I am only dreaming! A horrid dream though--horrid--would I couldwake myself--'tis nightmare! I know it--if I could but move something--my toes--my fingers--oh!"

These reflections actually passed through my mind. They have done so atother times when I have been under the influence of nightmare; and I nowno longer dread this incubus, since I have learnt how to throw it off. _Then_ I could not. I lay like one dead, whose eyelids have been leftunclosed; and I thought I was dreaming. 

Dreaming or awake, my soul had not yet reached its climax of horror. AsI continued to gaze, I perceived that the number of the hideous animalsincreased every moment. I could now see their brown hairy bodies--forthey had approached close to the candle, and were full under its light. They were _thick upon the floor_. It appeared to be alive with them, and in motion like water under a gale. Hideous sight to behold!

Still nearer they came. I could distinguish their sharp teeth--the longgrey bristles upon their snouts--the spiteful expression in their smallpenetrating eyes. 

Nearer still! They climb upon the coffee-bags--they crawl along my legsand body--they chase each other over the folds of my cloak--they aregnawing at my boots!--Horror! horror! they will devour me!

They are around me in myriads. I cannot see on either side, but I knowthat they are all around. I can hear their shrill screaming, the air isloaded with the odour of their filthy bodies. I feel as though it willsuffocate me. Horror! horror! oh! merciful God! arouse me from thisterrible dream!

Such were my thoughts--such my feelings at that moment. I had a perfectconsciousness of all that was passing--so perfect that I believed it adream. 

I made every effort to awake myself--to move hand and limb. It was allin vain. I could not move a muscle. Every nerve of my body was asleep. My blood lay stagnant within my veins!

I lay suffering this monstrous pain for a long, long while. I lay infear of being eaten up piecemeal!

The fierce animals had only attacked my boots and my cloak, but myterror was complete. I waited to feel them at my throat!

Was it my face and my eyes staring open that kept them off? I amcertain my eyes were open all the while. Was it that that deterred themfrom attacking me? No doubt it was. They scrambled over all parts ofmy body, even up to my breast, but they seemed to avoid my head andface!

Whether they would have continued under the restraint of this salutaryfear, I know not, for a sudden termination was put to the horrid scene. 

The candle had burnt to its end, and the remnant fell with a hissingsound through the neck of the bottle, thus extinguishing the light. 

Frightened by the sudden transition from light to darkness, the hideousanimals uttered their terrible squeaking, and broke off in everydirection. I could hear the pattering of their feet upon the planks asthey scampered away. 

The light seemed to have been the spell that bound me in the iron chainof the nightmare. The moment it went out, I found myself again inpossession of muscular strength; and, springing to my feet, I caught upmy cloak and swept it wildly around me, shouting at the top of my voice. 

The cold perspiration was running from every pore in my skin, and myhair felt as if on end. I still believed I was dreaming; and it was notuntil the astonished negro appeared with a light, and I had evidence ofthe presence of my hairy visitors in the condition of my cloak andboots, that I was convinced the terrible episode was a reality. 

I remained no longer in the "saloon, " but, wrapping my cloak around me, betook myself to the open air. 

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. 

THE HOUMA. 

I had not much longer to remain on the wharf-boat. The hoarse barkingof a 'scape-pipe fell upon my ear and shortly after the fires of asteamboat furnace appeared, glittering red upon the stream. Then washeard the crashing plunging sound of the paddle-wheels as they beat thebrown water, and then the ringing of the bell, and the shouts of commandpassing from captain to mate, and from mate to "deck hands, " and in fiveminutes after, the "Houma"--Red River-boat, --lay side by side with theold "Sultana. "

I stepped aboard, threw my luggage over the guard, and, climbingup-stairs, seated myself under the awning. 

Ten minutes of apparent confusion--the quick trampling of feet over thedecks and staging--half-a-dozen passengers hastening ashore--othershurrying in the opposite direction--the screeching of the steam--therattling of huge fire-logs thrust endways up the furnace--at intervalsthe loud words of command--a peal of laughter at some rude jest, or themurmur of voices in the sadder accents of adieu. Ten minutes of thesesights and sounds, and again was heard the ringing of the large bell--the signal that the boat was about to continue her course. 

I had flung myself into a chair that stood beside one of theawning-posts, and close to the guards. From my position I commanded aview of the gangway, the staging-plank, and the contiguous wharf-boat, which I had just left. 

I was looking listlessly on what was passing below, taking note ofnothing in particular. If I had a special thought in my mind thesubject of it was not there, and the thought itself caused me to turn myeyes away from the busy groups and bend them downward along the leftbank of the river. Perhaps a sigh was the concomitant of theseoccasional glances; but in the intervals between, my mind dwelt uponnothing in particular, and the forms that hurried to and fro impressedme only as shadows. 

This apathy was suddenly interrupted. My eyes, by pure accident, fellupon two figures whose movements at once excited my attention. Theystood upon the deck of the wharf-boat--not near the stage-plank, wherethe torch cast its glare over the hurrying passengers, but in a remotecorner under the shadow of the awning. I could see them only in anobscure light, --in fact, could scarce make out their forms, shrouded asthey were in dark cloaks--but the attitudes in which they stood, thefact of their keeping thus apart in the most obscure quarter of theboat, the apparent earnestness with which they were conversing--all ledme to conjecture that they were lovers. My heart, guided by the sweetinstinct of love, at once accepted this explanation, and looked for noother. 

"Yes--lovers! how happy! No--perhaps not so happy--it is a _parting_!Some youth who makes a trip down to the city--perhaps some young clerkor merchant, who goes to spend his winter there. What of that? He willreturn in spring, again to press those delicate fingers, again to foldthat fair form in his arms, again to speak those tender words that willsound all the sweeter after the long interval of silence. 

"Happy youth! happy girl! Light is the misery of a parting like yours!How easy to endure when compared with that violent separation which Ihave experienced! Aurore!--Aurore!--Would that you were free! Wouldthat you were some high-born dame! Not that I should love you themore--impossible--but then might I boldly woo, and freely win. Then Imight hope--but now, alas! this horrid gulf--this social abyss thatyawns between us. Well! it cannot separate souls. Our love shallbridge it--Ha!"

"Hilloa, Mister! What's gwine wrong? Anybody fell overboard!"

I heeded not the rude interrogatory. A deeper pang absorbed my soul, forcing from me the wild exclamation that had given the speaker cause. 

The two forms parted--with a mutual pressure of the hand, with a kissthey parted! The young man hastened across the staging. I did notobserve his face, as he passed under the light. I had taken no noticeof _him_, my eyes by some strange fascination remaining fixed upon_her_. I was curious to observe how _she_ would act in this finalmoment of leave-taking. 

The planks were drawn aboard. The signal-bell sounded. I couldperceive that we were moving away. 

At this moment the shrouded form of the lady glided forward into thelight. She was advancing to catch a farewell glance of her lover. Afew steps brought her to the edge of the wharf-boat, where the torch wasglaring. Her hood-like gun-bonnet was thrown back. The light fell fullupon her face, glistened along the undulating masses of black hair thatshrouded her temples, and danced in her glorious eyes. Good God! theywere the eyes of _Aurore_!

No wonder I uttered the wild ejaculation--

"It is she!"

"What?--a female! overboard, do you say? Where? Where?"

The man was evidently in earnest. My soliloquy had been loud enough toreach his ears. 

He believed it to be a reply to his previous question, and my excitedmanner confirmed him in the belief that a woman had actually fallen intothe river!

His questions and exclamations were overheard and repeated in the voicesof others who stood near. Like wildfire an alarm ran through the boat. Passengers rushed from the cabins, along the guards, and out to thefront awning, and mingled their hurried interrogatories, "Who? What?Where?" A loud voice cried out--

"Some one overboard! A woman! it's a woman!"

Knowing the cause of this ridiculous alarm, I gave no heed to it. Mymind was occupied with a far different matter. The first shock of ahideous passion absorbed my whole soul, and I paid no attention to whatwas going on around me. 

I had scarce recognised the face, when the boat rounding up-streambrought the angle of the cabin between it and me. I rushed forward, asfar as the gangway. I was too late:--the wheel-house obstructed theview. I did not halt, but ran on, directing myself towards the top ofthe wheel-house. Passengers in their excitement were rushing along theguards. They hindered my progress, and it was some time before I couldclimb up the wheel-house, and stand upon its rounded roof. I did so atlength, but too late. The boat had forged several hundred yards intothe stream. I could see the wharf-boat with its glaring lights. Icould even see human forms standing along its deck, but I could nolonger distinguish that one that my eyes were in search of. 

Disappointed I stepped on to the hurricane-deck, which was almost acontinuation of the roof of the wheel-house. There I could be alone, and commune with my now bitter thoughts. 

I was not to have that luxury just then. Shouts, the trampling of heavyboots bounding over the planks, and the pattering of lighter feet, sounded in my ears; and next moment a stream of passengers, male andfemale, came pouring up the sides of the wheel-house. 

"That's the gentleman--that's him!" cried a voice. 

In another instant the excited throng was around me, several inquiringat once--

"Who's overboard? Who? Where?"

Of course I saw that these interrogatories were meant for me. I saw, too, that an answer was necessary to allay their ludicrous alarm. 

"Ladies and gentlemen!" I said, "there is no one overboard that I amaware of. Why do you ask _me_?"

"Hilloa, Mister!" cried the cause of all this confusion, "didn't youtell me--?"

"I told you nothing. "

"But didn't I ask you if thar wan't some one overboard?"

"You did. "

"And you said in reply--"

"I said nothing in reply. "

"Darned if you didn't! you said `Thar she is!' or, `It was she!' orsomething o' that sort. "

I turned towards the speaker, who I perceived was rather losing creditwith his auditory. 

"Mister!" said I, imitating his tone, "it is evident you have neverheard of the man who grew immensely rich by minding his own business. "

My remark settled the affair. It was received by a yell of laughter, that completely discomfited my meddling antagonist, who, after somelittle swaggering and loud talk, at length went below to the "bar" tosoothe his mortified spirit with a "gin-sling. "

The others dropped away one by one, and dispersed themselves through thevarious cabins and saloons; and I found myself once more the soleoccupant of the hurricane-deck. 

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. 

JEALOUSY. 

Have you ever loved in humble life? some fair young girl, whose lot wasamong the lowly, but whose brilliant beauty in your eyes annihilated allsocial inequalities? Love levels all distinctions, is an adage old asthe hills. It brings down the proud heart, and teaches condescension tothe haughty spirit; but its tendency is to elevate, to ennoble. It doesnot make a peasant of the prince, but a prince of the peasant. 

Behold the object of your adoration engaged in her ordinary duties! Shefetches a jar of water from the well. Barefoot she treads thewell-known path. Those nude pellucid feet are fairer in their nakednessthan the most delicate _chaussure_ of silk and satin. The wreaths andpearl circlets, the pins of gold and drupes of coral, the costliest_coiffures_ of the dress circle, --all seem plain and poor compared withthe glossy _neglige_ of those bright tresses. The earthen jar sits uponher head with the grace of a golden coronet--every attitude is the_pose_ of a statue, a study for a sculptor; and the coarse garment thatdrapes that form is in your eyes more becoming than a robe of richestvelvet. You care not for that. You are not thinking of the casket, butof the pearl it conceals. 

She disappears within the cottage--her humble home. Humble? In youreyes no longer humble; that little kitchen, with its wooden chairs, andscoured dresser, its deal shelf, with mugs, cups, and willow-patternplates, its lime-washed walls and cheap prints of the red soldier andthe blue sailor--that little museum of the _penates_ of the poor, is nowfilled with a light that renders it more brilliant than the gildedsaloons of wealth and fashion. That cottage with its low roof, andwoodbine trellis, has become a palace. The light of love hastransformed it! A paradise you are forbidden to enter. Yes, with allyour wealth and power, your fine looks and your titles of distinction, your superfine cloth and bright lacquered boots, mayhap you dare notenter there. 

And oh! how you envy those who dare!--how you envy the spruceapprentice, and the lout in the smock who cracks his whip, and whistleswith as much _nonchalance_ as if he was between the handles of hisplough! as though the awe of that fair presence should not freeze hislips to stone! _Gauche_ that he is, how you envy him his_opportunities_! how you could slaughter him for those sweet smiles thatappear to be lavished upon him!

There maybe no meaning in those smiles. They may be the expressions ofgood-nature of simple friendship, perhaps of a little coquetry. For allthat, you cannot behold them without envy--without _suspicion_ If therebe a meaning--if they be the smiles of love--if the heart of that simplegirl has made its lodgement either upon the young apprentice or him ofthe smock--then are you fated to the bitterest pang that human breastcan know. It is not jealousy of the ordinary kind. It is far morepainful. Wounded vanity adds a poison to the sting. Oh! it is hard tobear!

A pang of this nature I suffered, as I paced that high platform. Fortunately they had left me alone. The feelings that worked within mecould not be concealed. My looks and wild gestures must have betrayedthem. I should have been a subject for satire and laughter. But I wasalone. The pilot in his glass-box did not notice me. His back wastowards me, and his keen eye, bent steadily upon the water, was too busywith logs and sand-bars, and snags and sawyers, to take note of mydelirium. 

It _was_ Aurore! Of that I had no doubt whatever. Her face was not tobe mistaken for any other. There was none like it--none so lovely--alas! too fatally fair. 

Who could _he_ be? Some young spark of the town? Some clerk in one ofthe stores? a young planter? who? Maybe--and with this thought camethat bitter pang--one of her own proscribed race--a young man of"colour"--a mulatto--a quadroon--a slave! Ha! to be rivalled by aslave!--worse than rivalled. --Infamous coquette! Why had I yielded toher fascinations? Why had I mistaken her craft for _naivete_?--herfalsehood for truth?

Who could _he_ be? I should search the boat till I found him. Unfortunately I had taken no marks, either of his face or his dress. Myeyes had remained fixed upon her after their parting. In the shadow Ihad seen him only indistinctly; and as he passed under the lights I sawhim not. How preposterous then to think of looking for him! I couldnot recognise him in such a crowd. 

I went below, and wandered through the cabins, under the front awning, and along the guard-ways. I scanned every face with an eagerness thatto some must have appeared impertinence. Wherever one was young andhandsome, he was an object of my scrutiny and jealousy. There wereseveral such among the male passengers; and I endeavoured to distinguishthose who had come aboard at Bringiers. There were some young men whoappeared as if they had lately shipped, themselves, but I had no clue toguide me, and I failed to find my rival. 

In the chagrin of disappointment I returned once more to the roof; but Ihad hardly reached it, when a new thought came into my mind. Iremembered that the slaves of the plantation were to be sent down to thecity by the first boat. Were they not travelling by that very one? Ihad seen a crowd of blacks--men, women, and children--hastily drivenaboard. I had paid but little heed to such a common spectacle--one thatmay be witnessed daily, hourly. I had not thought of it, that thosemight be the slaves of the plantation Besancon!

If they were, then indeed there might still be hope; Aurore had not gonewith them--but what of that? Though, like them, only a slave, it wasnot probable she would have been forced to herd with them upon the deck. But she had not come aboard! The staging had been already taken in, asI recognised her on the wharf-boat. On the supposition that the slavesof Besancon were aboard, my heart felt relieved. I was filled with ahope that all might yet be well. 

Why? you may ask. I answer--simply because the thought occurred to me, that the youth, who so tenderly parted from Aurore, _might be a brother, or some near relative_. I had not heard of such relationship. It mightbe so, however; and my heart, reacting from its hour of keen anguish, was eager to relieve itself by any hypothesis. 

I could not endure doubt longer; and turning on my heel, I hastenedbelow. Down the kleets of the wheel-house, along the guard-way, thendown the main stairs to the boiler-deck. Threading my way among bags ofmaize and hogsheads of sugar, now stooping under the great axle, nowclimbing over huge cotton-bales, I reached the after-part of the lowerdeck, usually appropriated to the "deck passengers"--the poor immigrantsof Ireland and Germany, who here huddle miscellaneously with the swarthybondsmen of the South. 

As I had hoped, there were they, --those black but friendly faces, --everyone of them. Old Zip, and Aunt Chloe, and the little Chloe; Hannibal, the new coachman, and Caesar and Pompey, and all, --all on their way tothe dreaded mart. 

I had halted a second or two before approaching them. The light was inmy favour, and I saw them before discovering my presence. There were nosigns of mirth in that sable group. I heard no laughter, no lightrevelry, as was their wont to indulge in in days gone by, among theirlittle cabins in the quarter. A deep melancholy had taken possession ofthe features of all. Gloom was in every glance. Even the children, usually reckless of the unknown future, seemed impressed with the samesentiment. They rolled not about, tumbling over each other. Theyplayed not at all. They sat without stirring, and silent. Even they, poor infant helots, knew enough to fear for their dark future, --toshudder at the prospect of the slave-market. 

All were downcast. No wonder. They had been used to kind treatment. They might pass to a hard taskmaster. Not one of them knew where inanother day should be his home--what sort of tyrant should be his lord. But that was not all. Still worse. Friends, they were going to beparted; relatives, they would be torn asunder--perhaps never to meetmore. Husband looked upon wife, brother upon sister, father upon child, mother upon infant, with dread in the heart and agony in the eye. 

It was painful to gaze upon this sorrowing group, to contemplate thesuffering, the mental anguish that spoke plainly in every face; to thinkof the wrongs which one man can legally put upon another--the deepsinful wrongs, the outrage of every human principle. Oh, it wasterribly painful to look on that picture!

It was some relief to me to know that my presence threw at least amomentary light over its shade. Smiles chased away the sombre shadowsas I appeared, and joyous exclamations hailed me. Had I been theirsaviour, I could not have met a more eager welcome. 

Amidst their fervid ejaculations I could distinguish earnest appealsthat I would buy them--that I would become their master--mingled withzealous protestations of service and devotion. Alas! they knew not howheavily at that moment the price of one of their number lay upon myheart. 

I strove to be gay, to cheer them with words of consolation. I ratherneeded to be myself consoled. 

During this while my eyes were busy. I scanned the faces of all. Therewas light enough glimmering from two oil-lamps to enable me to do so. Several were young mulattoes. Upon these my glance rested, one afterthe other. How my heart throbbed in this examination! It triumphed atlength. Surely there was no face there that _she_ could love? Werethey all present? Yes, all--so Scipio said; all but Aurore. 

"And Aurore?" I asked; "have you heard any more of her?"

"No, mass'; 'blieve 'Rore gone to de city. She go by de road in acarriage--not by de boat, some ob de folks say daat, I b'lieve. "

This was strange enough. Taking the black aside--

"Tell me, Scipio, " I asked, "has Aurore any relative among you?--anybrother, or sister, or cousin?"

"No, mass', ne'er a one. Golly, mass'! 'Rore she near white as missa'Genie all de rest be black, or leas'wise yeller! 'Rore she quaderoom, yeller folks all mulatto--no kin to 'Rore--no. "

I was perplexed and puzzled. My former doubts came crowding back uponme. My jealousy returned. 

Scipio could not clear up the mystery. His answer to other questionswhich I put to him gave me no solution to it; and I returned up-stairswith a heart that suffered under the pressure of disappointment. 

The only reflection from which I drew comfort was, that I might havebeen mistaken. Perhaps, after all, it was _not_ Aurore!

CHAPTER FORTY SIX. 

A SCIENTIFIC JULEP. 

To drown care and sorrow men drink. The spirit of wine freely quaffedwill master either bodily pain or mental suffering--for a time. Thereis no form of the one or phase of the other so difficult to subdue asthe pang of jealousy. Wine must be deeply quaffed before that corrodingpoison can be washed free from the heart. 

But there is a partial relief in the wine-cup, and I sought it. I knewit to be only temporary, and that the sorrow would soon return. Buteven so--even a short respite was to be desired. I could bear mythoughts no longer. 

I am not brave in bearing pain. I have more than once intoxicatedmyself to deaden the pitiful pain of a toothache. By the same means Iresolved to relieve the dire aching of my heart. 

The spirit of wine was nigh at hand, and might be imbibed in many forms. 

In one corner of the "smoking-saloon" was the "bar, " with its elegantadornments--its rows of decanters and bottles, with silver stoppers andlabels its glasses, and lemons, and sugar-crushers--its bouquet ofaromatic mint and fragrant pines--its bunches of straw tubes for"sucking" the "mint-julep, " the "sherry-cobbler, " or the "claretsangaree. "

In the midst of this _entourage_ stood the "bar-keeper, " and in thisindividual do not picture to yourself some seedy personage of the waiterclass, with bloodless cheeks and clammy skin, such as thosemonstrosities of an English hotel who give you a very _degout_ for yourdinner. On the contrary, behold an _elegant_ of latest fashion--thatis, the fashion of his country and class, the men of the river. Hewears neither coat nor vest while in the exercise of his office, but hisshirt will merit an observation. It is of the finest fabric of theIrish loom--too fine to be worn by those who have woven it--and no BondStreet furnishing-house could equal its "make up. "

Gold buttons glance at the sleeves, and diamonds sparkle amid theprofuse ruffles on the bosom. The collar is turned down over a blacksilk riband, knotted _a la Byron_; but a tropic sun has more to do withthis fashion than any desire to imitate the sailor-poet. Over thisshirt stretch silk braces elaborately needle-worked, and still furtheradorned by buckles of pure gold. A hat of the costly grass from theshores of the South Sea crowns his well-oiled locks, and thus you havethe "bar-keeper of the boat. " His nether man need not be described. That is the unseen portion of his person, which is below the level ofthe bar. No cringing, smirking, obsequious counter-jumper he, but adashing sprig, who, perhaps, _owns_ his bar and all its contents, andwho holds his head as high as either the clerk or captain. 

As I approached this gentleman, he placed a glass upon the counter, andthrew into it some broken fragments of ice. All this was done without aword having passed between us. 

I had no need to give an order. He saw in my eye the determination todrink. 

"Cobbler?"

"No, " said I; "a mint-julep. "

"Very well, I'll mix you a julep that'll set your teeth for you. "

"Thank you. Just what I want. "

The gentleman now placed side by side two glasses--tumblers of largesize. Into one he put, first, a spoonful of crushed white sugar--then aslice of lemon--ditto of orange--next a few sprigs of green mint--afterthat a handful of broken ice, a gill of water, and, lastly, a largeglass measure of cognac. This done, he lifted the glasses one in eachhand, and poured the contents from one to the other so rapidly that ice, brandy, lemons, and all, seemed to be constantly suspended in the air, and oscillating between the glasses. The tumblers themselves at no timeapproached nearer than two feet from each other! This adroitness, peculiar to his craft, and only obtained after long practice, wasevidently a source of professional pride. After some half-score ofthese revolutions the drink was permitted to rest in one glass, and wasthen set down upon the counter. 

There yet remained to be given the "finishing touch. " A thin slice ofpine-apple was cut freshly from the fruit. This held between the fingerand thumb was doubled over the edge of the glass, and then passed withan adroit sweep round the circumference. 

"That's the latest Orleans touch, " remarked the bar-keeper with a smile, as he completed the manoeuvre. 

There was a double purpose in this little operation. The pine-apple notonly cleared the glass of the grains of sugar and broken leaves of mint, but left its fragrant juice to mingle its aroma with the beverage. 

"The latest Orleans touch, " he repeated; "scientific style. "

I nodded my assent. 

The julep was now "mixed"--which fact was made known to me by the glassbeing pushed a little nearer, across the marble surface of the counter. 

"Have a straw?" was the laconic inquiry. 

"Yes; thank you. "

A joint of wheaten straw was plunged into the glass, and taking thisbetween my lips I drew in large draughts of perhaps the most deliciousof all intoxicating drinks--the mint-julep. 

The aromatic liquid had scarce passed my lips when I began to feel itseffects. My pulse ceased its wild throbbing. My blood became cool, andflowed in a more gentle current through my veins, and my heart seemed tobe bathing in the waters of Lethe. The relief was almost instantaneous, and I only wondered I had not thought of it before. Though still farfrom happy, I felt that I held in my hands what would soon make me so. Transitory that happiness might be, yet the reaction was welcome at themoment, and the prospect of it pleasant to my soul. I eagerly swallowedthe inspiring beverage--swallowed it in large draughts, till the strawtube, rattling among the fragments of ice at the bottom of the glass, admonished me that the fluid was all gone. 

"Another, if you please!"

"You liked it, I guess?"

"Most excellent!"

"Said so. I reckon, stranger, we can get up a mint-julep on board thishere boat equal to either Saint Charles or Verandah, if not a leetlesuperior to either. "

"A superb drink!"

"We can mix a sherry-cobbler too, that ain't hard to take. "

"I have no doubt of it, but I'm not fond of sherry. I prefer this. "

"You're right. So do I. The pine-apple's a new idea, but animprovement, I think. "

"I think so too. "

"Have a fresh straw?"

"Thank you. "

This young fellow was unusually civil. I fancied that his civilityproceeded from my having eulogised his mint-juleps. It was not that, asI afterwards ascertained. These Western people are little accessible tocheap flattery. I owed his good opinion of me to a far differentcause--_the discomfiture I had put on the meddling passenger_! Ibelieve he had also learnt, that it was I who had chastised the BullyLarkin! Such "feats of arms" soon become known in the region of theMississippi Valley, where strength and courage are qualities of highesteem. Hence, in the bar-keeper's view, I was one who deserved a civilword; and thus talking together on the best of terms, I swallowed mysecond julep, and called upon him for a third, Aurore was for the momentforgotten, or when remembered, it was with less of bitterness. Now andthen that parting scene came uppermost in my thoughts; but the pang thatrose with it was each moment growing feebler, and easier to be endured. 

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. 

A GAME OF WHIST. 

In the centre of the smoking-saloon, there was a table, and around itsome half-dozen men were seated. Other half-dozen stood behind these, looking over their shoulders. The attitudes of all, and their eagerglances, suggested the nature of their occupation. The flouting ofpasteboard, the chink of dollars, and the oft-recurring words of "ace, ""jack, " and "trump, " put it beyond a doubt that that occupation wasgaming. "Euchre" was the game. 

Curious to observe this popular American game, I stepped up and stoodwatching the players. My friend who had raised the false alarm was oneof them; but his back was towards me, and I remained for some timeunseen by him. 

Some two or three of those who played were elegantly-dressed men. Theircoats were of the finest cloth, their ruffles of the costliest cambric, and jewels sparkled in their shirt bosoms and glittered upon theirfingers. These fingers, however, told a tale. They told plainly aswords, that they to whom they belonged had not always been accustomed tosuch elegant adornment. Toilet soap had failed to soften the corrugatedskin, and obliterate the abrasions--the souvenirs of toil. 

This was nothing. They might be gentlemen for all that. Birth is ofslight consequence in the Far West. The plough-boy may become thePresident. 

Still there was an air about these men--an air I cannot describe, butwhich led me at the moment to doubt their _gentility_. It was not fromany swagger or assumption on their part. On the contrary, they appearedthe _most gentlemanly_ individuals around the table!

They were certainly the most sedate and quiet. Perhaps it was this verysedateness--this polished reserve--that formed the spring of mysuspicion. True gentlemen, bloods from Tennessee or Kentucky, youngplanters of the Mississippi coast, or French Creoles of Orleans, wouldhave offered different characteristics. The cool complacency with whichthese individuals spoke and acted--no symptoms of perturbation as thetrump was turned, no signs of ruffled temper when luck went againstthem--told two things; first, that they were men of the world, and, secondly, that they were not now playing their maiden game of "Euchre. "Beyond that I could form no judgment about them. They might be doctors, lawyers, or "gentlemen of elegant leisure"--a class by no means uncommonin the work-a-day world of America. 

At that time I was still too new to Far West society, to be able todistinguish its features. Besides, in the United States, andparticularly in the western portion of the country, those peculiaritiesof dress and habit, which in the Old-World form, as it were, thelandmarks of the professions, do not exist. You may meet the preacherwearing a blue coat and bright buttons; the judge with a green one; thedoctor in a white linen jacket; and the baker in glossy black broadclothfrom top to toe!

Where every man assumes the right to be a gentleman, the costumes andbadges of trade are studiously avoided. Even the tailor isundistinguishable in the mass of his "fellow-citizens. " The land ofcharacter-dresses lies farther to the south-west--Mexico is that land. 

I stood for some time watching the gamesters and the game. Had I notknown something of the banking peculiarities of the West, I should havebelieved that they were gambling for enormous sums. At each man's rightelbow lay a huge pile of bank-notes, flanked by a few pieces of silver--dollars, halves, and quarters. Accustomed as my eyes had been tobank-notes of five pounds in value, the table would have presented to mea rich appearance, had I not known that these showy parallelograms ofcopper-plate and banking-paper, were mere "shin-plasters, " representingamounts that varied from the value of one dollar to that of six and aquarter cents! Notwithstanding, the bets were far from being low. Twenty, fifty, and even a hundred dollars, frequently changed hands in asingle game. 

I perceived that the hero of the false alarm was one of the players. His back was towards me where I stood, and he was too much engrossedwith his game to look around. 

In dress and general appearance he differed altogether from the rest. He wore a white beaver hat with broad brim, and a coat of great "jeans, "wide-sleeved and loose-bodied. He had the look of a well-to-docorn-farmer from Indiana or a pork-merchant from Cincinnati. Yet therewas something in his manner that told you river-travelling was not newto him. It was not his first trip "down South. " Most probably thesecond supposition was the correct one--he was a dealer in hog-meat. 

One of the fine gentlemen I have described sat opposite to where I wasstanding. He appeared to be losing considerable sums, which the farmeror pork-merchant was winning. It proved that the luck of the cards wasnot in favour of the smartest-looking players--an inducement to otherplain people to try a hand. 

I began to feel sympathy for the elegant gentleman, his losses were sosevere. I could not help admiring the composure with which he borethem. 

At length he looked up, and scanned the faces of those who stood around. He seemed desirous of giving up the play. His eye met mine. He said, in a careless way--

"Perhaps, stranger, _you_ wish to take a hand? You may have my place ifyou do. I have no luck. I could not win under any circumstancesto-night. I shall give up playing. "

This appeal caused the rest of the players to turn their faces towardsme, and among others the pork-dealer. I expected an ebullition of angerfrom this individual. I was disappointed. On the contrary, he hailedme in a friendly tone. 

"Hilloa, mister!" cried he, "I hope you an't miffed at me?"

"Not in the least, " I replied. 

"Fact, I meant no offence. Did think thar war a some 'un overboard. Dog-gone me, if I didn't!"

"Oh! I have taken no offence, " rejoined I; "to prove it, I ask you nowto drink with me. "

The juleps and the late reaction from bitter thought had rendered me ofa jovial disposition. The free apology at once won my forgiveness. 

"Good as wheat!" assented the pork-dealer. "I'm your man; but, stranger, you must allow me to pay. You see, I've won a trifle here. _My_ right to pay for the drinks. "

"Oh! I have no objection. "

"Well, then, let's all licker! _I_ stand drinks all round. What sayyou, fellars?" A murmur of assent answered the interrogatory. 

"Good!" continued the speaker. "Hyar, bar-keeper! drinks for thecrowd!"

And so saying, he of the white-hat and jeans coat stepped forward to thebar, and placed a couple of dollars upon the counter. All who were nearfollowed him, shouting each out the name of the beverage most to hisliking in the various calls of "gin-sling", "cocktail", "cobbler, ""julep", "brandy-smash, " and such-like interesting mixtures. 

In America men do not sit and sip their liquor, but drink standing. _Running_, one might say--for, be it hot or cold, mixed or "neat, " it isgone in a gulp, and then the drinkers retire to their chairs to smoke, chew, and wait for the fresh invitation, "Let's all licker!"

In a few seconds we had all liquored, and the players once more tooktheir seats around the table. 

The gentleman who had proposed to me to become his successor did notreturn to his place. He had no luck, he again said, and would not playany more that night. 

Who would accept his place and his partner? I was appealed to. 

I thanked my new acquaintances, but the thing was impossible, as I hadnever played Euchre, and therefore knew nothing about the game, beyondthe few points I had picked up while watching them. 

"That ar awkward, " said the pork-dealer. "Ain't we nohow able to get upa set? Come, Mr Chorley--I believe that's your name, sir?" (This wasaddressed to the gentleman who had risen. ) "You ain't a-goin' to desartus that away? We can't make up a game if you do?"

"I should only lose if I played longer, " reiterated Chorley. "No, "continued he, "I won't risk it. "

"Perhaps this gentleman plays `whist, '" suggested another, alluding tome. "You're an Englishman, sir, I believe. I never knew one of yourcountrymen who was not a good whist-player. "

"True, I can play whist, " I replied carelessly. 

"Well, then, what say you all to a game of whist?" inquired the lastspeaker, glancing around the table. 

"Don't know much about the game, " bluntly answered the pork-dealer. "Mout play it on a pinch rayther than spoil sport; but whoever hez mefor a partner 'll have to keep a sharp look-out for himself, I reckon. "

"I guess you know the game as well as I do, " replied the one who hadproposed it. 

"I hain't played a rubber o' whist for many a year, but if we can't makeup the set at Euchre, let's try one. "

"Oh! if you're goin' to play whist, " interposed the gentleman who hadseceded from the game of Euchre--"if you're going to play whist, I don'tmind taking a hand at _that_--it may change my luck--and if thisgentleman has no objection, I'd like him for my partner. As you say, sir, Englishmen are good whist-players. It's their national game, Ibelieve. "

"Won't be a fair match, Mr Chorley, " said the dealer in hog-meat; "butsince you propose it, if Mr Hatcher here--your name, sir, I believe?"

"Hatcher is my name, " replied the person addressed, the same whosuggested whist. 

"If Mr Hatcher here, " continued white-hat, "has no objection to thearrangement, I'll not back out. Doggoned, if I do!"

"Oh! I don't care, " said Hatcher, in a tone of reckless indifference, "anything to get up a game. "

Now, I was never fond of gambling, either amateur or otherwise, butcircumstances had made me a tolerable whist-player, and I knew therewere few who could beat me at it. If my partner knew the game as well, I felt certain we could not be badly damaged; and according to allaccounts he understood it well. This was the opinion of one or two ofthe bystanders, who whispered in my ear that he was a "whole team" atwhist. 

Partly from the reckless mood I was in--partly that a secret purposeurged me on--a purpose which developed itself more strongly afterwards--and partly that I had been bantered, and, as it were, "cornered" intothe thing, I consented to play--Chorley and I _versus_ Hatcher and thepork-merchant. 

We took our seats--partners _vis-a-vis_--the cards were shuffled, cut, dealt, and the game began. 

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. 

THE GAME INTERRUPTED. 

We played the first two or three games for low stakes--a dollar each. This was agreeable to the desire of Hatcher and the pork-merchant--whodid not like to risk much as they had nearly forgotten the game. Both, however, made "hedge bets" freely against my partner, Chorley, andagainst any one who chose to take them up. These bets were on theturn-up, the colour, the "honours, " or the "odd trick. "

My partner and I won the two first games, and rapidly. I noted severalinstances of bad play on the part of our opponent. I began to believethat they really were not a match for us. Chorley said so with an airof triumph, as though we were playing merely for the honour of thething, and the stakes were of no consequence. After a while, as we wonanother game, he repeated the boast. 

The pork-dealer and his partner seemed to get a little nettled. 

"It's the cards, " said the latter, with an air of pique. 

"Of coorse it's the cards, " repeated white-hat. "Had nothing but darnedrubbish since the game begun. Thar again!"

"Bad cards again?" inquired his partner with a sombre countenance. 

"Bad as blazes! couldn't win corn-shucks with 'em. "

"Come, gentlemen!" cried my partner, Chorley; "not exactly fair that--nohints. "

"Bah!" ejaculated the dealer. "Mout show you my hand, for that matter. Thar ain't a trick in it. "

We won again!

Our adversaries, getting still more nettled at our success, now proposeddoubling the stakes. This was agreed to, and another game played. 

Again Chorley and I were winners, and the pork-man asked his partner ifhe would double again. The latter consented after a little hesitation, as though he thought the amount too high. Of course we, the winners, could not object, and once more we "swept the shin-plasters, " as Chorleyeuphoniously expressed it. 

The stakes were again doubled, and possibly would have increased in thesame ratio again and again had I not made a positive objection. Iremembered the amount of cash I carried in my pocket, and knew that atsuch a rate, should fortune go against us, my purse would not hold out. I consented, however, to a stake of ten dollars each, and at this amountwe continued the play. 

It was well we had not gone higher, for from this time fortune seemed todesert us. We lost almost every time, and at the rate of ten dollars agame. I felt my purse grow sensibly lighter. I was in a fair way ofbeing "cleared out. "

My partner, hitherto so cool, seemed to lose patience, at intervalsanathematising the cards, and wishing he had never consented to a gameof "nasty whist. " Whether it was this excitement that caused it I couldnot tell, but certainly he played badly--much worse than at thebeginning. Several times he flung down his cards without thought orcaution. It seemed as if his temper, ruffled at our repeated losses, rendered him careless, and even reckless, about the result. I was themore surprised at this, as but an hour before at Euchre I had seen himlose sums of double the amount apparently with the utmost indifference. 

We had not bad luck neither. Each hand our cards were good; and severaltimes I felt certain we should have won, had my partner played his handmore skilfully. As it was, we continued to lose, until I felt satisfiedthat nearly half of my money was in the pockets of Hatcher and thepork-dealer. 

No doubt the whole of it would soon have found its way into the samereceptacles, had not our game been suddenly, and somewhat mysteriously, interrupted. 

Some loud words were heard--apparently from the lower deck--followed bya double report, as of two pistols discharged in rapid succession, andthe moment after a voice called out, "Great God! there's a man shot!"

The cards fell from our fingers--each seized his share of the stakes, springing to his feet as he did so; and then players, backers, lookers-on, and all, making for front and side entrances, rushed_pell-mell_ out of the saloon. 

Some ran down stairs--some sprang up to the hurricane-deck--some tookaft, others forward, all crying out "Who is it?" "Where is he?" "Whofired?" "Is he killed?" and a dozen like interrogatories, interruptedat intervals by the screams of the ladies in their cabins. The alarm ofthe "woman overboard" was nothing to this new scene of excitement andconfusion. But what was most mysterious was the fact that no killed orwounded individual could be found, nor any one who had either fired apistol or had seen one fired! no man had been shot, nor had any man shothim!

What the deuce could it mean? Who had cried out that some one was shot?That no one could tell! Mystery, indeed. Lights were carried roundinto all the dark corners of the boat, but neither dead nor wounded, nortrace of blood, could be discovered; and at length men broke out inlaughter, and stated their belief that the "hul thing was a hoax. " Sodeclared the dealer in hog-meat, who seemed rather gratified that he nolonger stood alone as a contriver of false alarms. 

CHAPTER FORTY NINE. 

THE SPORTSMEN OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 

Before things had reached this point, I had gained an explanation of themysterious alarm. I alone knew it, along with the individual who hadcaused it. 

On hearing the shots, I had run forward under the front awning, andstood looking over the guards. I was looking down upon theboiler-deck--for it appeared to me that the loud words that preceded thereports had issued thence, though I also thought that the shots had beenfired at some point nearer. 

Most of the people had gone out by the side entrances, and were standingover the gangways, so that I was alone in the darkness, or nearly so. 

I had not been many seconds in this situation, when some one glidedalongside of me, and touched me on the arm. I turned and inquired whoit was, and what was wanted. A voice answered me in French--

"A friend, Monsieur, who wishes to do you a service. "

"Ha, that voice! It was you, then, who called out--"

"It was. "

"And--"

"I who fired the shots--precisely. "

"There is no one killed, then?"

"Not that I know of. My pistol was pointed to the sky--besides it wasloaded blank. "

"I'm glad of that, Monsieur; but for what purpose, may I ask, haveyou--"

"Simply to do _you_ a service, as I have said. "

"But how do you contemplate serving me by firing off pistols, andfrightening the passengers of the boat out of their senses?"

"Oh! as to that, there's no harm done. They'll soon got over theirlittle alarm. I wanted to speak with you alone. I could think of noother device to separate you from your new acquaintances. The firing ofmy pistol was only a _ruse_ to effect that purpose. It has succeeded, you perceive. "

"Ha! Monsieur, it was you then who whispered the word in my ear as Isat down to play?"

"Yes; have I not prophesied truly?"

"So far you have. It was you who stood opposite me in the corner of thesaloon?"

"It was I. "

Let me explain these two last interrogatories. As I was aboutconsenting to the game of whist, some one plucked my sleeve, andwhispered in French--

"Don't play, Monsieur; you are certain to lose. "

I turned in the direction of the speaker, and saw a young man justleaving my side; but was not certain whether it was he who had giventhis prudent counsel. As is known, I did not heed it. 

Again, while engaged in the game, I noticed this same young man standingin front of me, but in a distant and somewhat dark corner of the saloon. Notwithstanding the darkness, I saw that his eyes were bent upon me, asI played. This fact would have drawn my attention of itself, but therewas also an expression in the face that at once fixed my interest; and, each time, while the cards were being dealt, I took the opportunity toturn my eyes upon this strange individual. 

He was a slender youth, under the medium height, and apparently scarcetwenty years of age, but a melancholy tone that pervaded his countenancemade him look a little older. His features were small, but finelychiselled--the nose and lips resembling more those of a woman. Hischeek was almost colourless, and dark silky hair fell in profuse curlsover his neck and shoulders; for such at that time was the Creolefashion. I felt certain the youth was a Creole, partly from his Frenchcast of countenance, partly from the fashion and material of his dress, and partly because he spoke French--for I was under the impression itwas he who had spoken to me. His costume was altogether of Creolefashion. He wore a blouse of brown linen--not after the mode of thatfamous garment as known in France--but as the Creole "hunting-shirt, "with plaited body and gracefully-gathered skirt. Its material, moreover, --the fine unbleached linen, --showed that the style was one ofchoice, not a mere necessary covering. His pantaloons were of thefinest sky-blue _cottonade_--the produce of the looms of Opelousas. They were plaited very full below the waist, and open at the bottomswith rows of buttons to close them around the ankles when occasionrequired. There was no vest. Its place was supplied by ample frills ofcambric lace, that puffed out over the breast. The _chaussure_consisted of gaiter-bootees of drab lasting-cloth, tipped with patentleather, and fastened over the front with a silk lace. A broad-brimmedPanama hat completed the dress, and gave the finishing touch to thistruly Southern costume. 

There was nothing _outre_ about either the shirt, the pantaloons, thehead-dress, or foot-gear. All were in keeping--all were in a style thatat that period was the _mode_ upon the lower Mississippi. It was not, therefore, the dress of this youth that had arrested my attention. Ihad been in the habit of seeing such, every day. It could not be that. No--the dress had nothing to do with the interest which he had excited. Perhaps my regarding him as the author of the brief counsel that hadbeen uttered in my ear had a little to do with it--but not all. Independent of that, there was something in the face itself thatforcibly attracted my regard--so forcibly that I began to ponder whetherI had ever seen it before. If there had been a better light, I mighthave resolved the doubt, but he stood in shadow, and I could not get afair view of him. 

It was just about this time that I missed him from his station in thecorner of the saloon, and a minute or two later were heard the shoutsand shots from without. 

"And now, Monsieur, may I inquire why you wish to speak to me, and whatyou have to say?"

I was beginning to feel annoyed at the interference of this youngfellow. A man does not relish being suddenly pulled up from a game ofwhist; and not a bit the more that he has been losing at it. 

"Why I wish to speak to you is, because I feel an interest in you. WhatI have to say you shall hear. "

"An interest in me! And pray, Sir, to what am I indebted for thisinterest?"

"Is it not enough that you are a stranger likely to be plundered of yourpurse?--a _green-horn_--"

"How, Monsieur?"

"Nay, do not be angry with me. That is the phrase which I have heardapplied to you to-night by more than one of your new acquaintances. Ifyou return to play with them, I think you will merit the title. "

"Come, Monsieur, this is too bad: you interfere in a matter that doesnot concern you. "

"True, it does not; but it concerns _you_, and yet--ah!"

I was about to leave this meddling youth, and hurry back to the game, when the strange melancholy tone of his voice caused me to hesitate, andremain by him a little longer. 

"Well, " I said, "you have not yet told me what you wished to say. "

"Indeed, I have said already. I have told you not to play--that youwould lose if you did. I repeat that counsel. "

"True, I have lost a little, but it does not follow that fortune will bealways on one side. It is rather my partner's fault, who seems a badplayer. "

"Your partner, if I mistake not, is one of the best players on theriver. I think I have seen that gentleman before. "

"Ha! you know him them?"

"Something of him--not much, but that much I know. Do _you_ know him?"

"Never saw him before to-night. "

"Nor any of the others?"

"They are all equally strangers to me. "

"You are not aware, then, that you are playing with _sportsmen_?"

"No, but I am very glad to hear it. I am something of a sportsmanmyself--as fond of dogs, horses, and guns, as any of the three, Iwarrant. "

"Ha! Monsieur, you misapprehend. A sportsman in your country, and asportsman in a Mississippi steamboat, are two very distinct things. Foxes, hares, and partridges, are the game of your sportsman. Greenhorns and their purses are the game of gentry like these. "

"The men with whom I am playing, then, are--"

"Professional gamblers--steamboat sharpers. "

"Are you sure of this, Monsieur?"

"Quite sure of it. Oh! I often travel up and down to New Orleans. Ihave seen them all before. "

"But one of them has the look of a farmer or a merchant, as I thought--apork-merchant from Cincinnati--his talk ran that way. "

"Farmer--merchant, ha! ha! ha! a farmer without acres--a merchantwithout trade! Monsieur, that simply-dressed old fellow is said to bethe `smartest'--that is the Yankee word--the smartest sportsman in theMississippi valley, and such are not scarce, I trow. "

"After all, they are strangers to each other, and one of them is mypartner--I do not see how they can--"

"Strangers to each other!" interrupted my new friend. "Since when havethey become acquainted? I myself have seen the three in company, and atthe same business, almost every time I have journeyed on the river. True, they talk to each other as if they had accidentally met. That ispart of their arrangement for cheating such as you. "

"So you believe they have actually been cheating me?"

"Since the stakes have been raised to ten dollars they have. "

"But how?"

"Oh, it is very simple. Sometimes your partner designedly played thewrong card--"

"Ha! I see now; I believe it. "

"It did not need that though. Even had you had an honest partner, itwould have been all the same in the end. Your opponents have a systemof signals by which they can communicate to each other many facts--thesort of cards they hold, --the colour of the cards, their value, and soforth. You did not observe how they placed their fingers upon the edgeof the table. _I_ did. One finger laid horizontally denoted onetrump--two fingers placed in a similar manner, two trumps--three forthree, and so on. A slight curving of the fingers told: how many of thetrumps were honours; a certain movement of the thumbs bespoke an ace;and in this way each of your adversaries knew almost to a card what hispartner had got. It needed not the third to bring about the desiredresult. As it was, there were seven knaves about the table--four in thecards, and three among the players. "

"This is infamous!"

"True, I would have admonished you of it sooner; but, of course, I couldnot find an opportunity. It would have been no slight danger for me tohave told you openly, and exposed the rascals. Hence, the _ruse_ I havebeen compelled to adopt. These are no common swindlers. Any of thethree would resent the slightest imputation upon their honour. Two ofthem are noted duellists. Most likely I should have been called outto-morrow and shot, and you would scarce have thanked me for my`interference. '"

"My dear sir, I am exceedingly grateful to you. I am convinced thatwhat you say is true. How would you have me act?"

"Simply give up the game--let your losses go--you cannot recover them. "

"But I am not disposed to be thus outraged and plundered with impunity. I shall try another game, watch them, and--"

"No, you would be foolish to do so. I tell you, Monsieur, these men arenoted duellists as well as black-legs, and possess courage. One ofthem, your partner, has given proof of it by having travelled over threehundred miles to fight with a gentleman who had slandered him, or ratherhad spoken the truth about him! He succeeded, moreover, in killing hisman. I tell you, Monsieur, you can gain nothing by quarrelling withsuch men, except a fair chance of having a bullet through you. I knowyou are a stranger in our country. Be advised, then, and act as I havesaid. Leave them to their gains. It is late: Retire to yourstate-room, and think no more on what you have lost. "

Whether it was the late excitement consequent upon the false alarm, orwhether it was the strange development I had just listened to, aided bythe cool river breeze, I know not; but the intoxication passed away, andmy brain became clear. I doubted not for a moment that the young Creolehad told me the truth. His manner as well as words, connected with thecircumstances that had just transpired, produced full conviction. 

I felt impressed with a deep sense of gratitude to him for the servicehe had rendered, and at such risk to himself--for even the _ruse_ he hadadopted might have had an awkward ending for him, had any one seen himfire off his pistols. 

Why had he acted thus? Why this interest in my affairs? Had heassigned the true reason? Was it a feeling of pure chivalry that hadprompted him? I had heard of just such instances of noble nature amongthe Creole-French of Louisiana. Was this another illustration of thatcharacter?

I say I was impressed with a deep sense of gratitude, and resolved tofollow his advice. 

"I shall do as you say, " I replied, "on one condition. "

"Name it, Monsieur. "

"That you will give me your address, so that when we arrive in NewOrleans, I may have the opportunity of renewing your acquaintance, andproving to you my gratitude. "

"Alas, Monsieur! I have no address. "

I felt embarrassed. The melancholy tone in which these words wereuttered was not to be mistaken; some grief pressed heavily on that youngand generous heart. 

It was not for me to inquire into its cause, least of all at that time;but my own secret sorrow enabled me to sympathise the more deeply withothers, and I felt I stood beside one whose sky was far from serene. Ifelt embarrassed by his answer. It left me in a delicate position tomake reply. I said at length--

"Perhaps you will do me the favour to call upon me? I live at the HotelSaint Luis. "

"I shall do so with pleasure. "

"To-morrow?"

"To-morrow night. "

"I shall stay at home for you. _Bon soir_, Monsieur. "

We parted, each taking the way to his state-room. 

In ten minutes after I lay in my shelf-like bed, asleep; and in tenhours after I was drinking my _cafe_ in the Hotel Saint Luis. 

CHAPTER FIFTY. 

THE CITY. 

I am strongly in favour of a country life. I am a lover of the chaseand the angle. 

Perhaps if I were to analyse the feeling, I might find that thesepredilections have their source in a purer fountain--the love of Natureherself. I follow the deer in his tracks, because they lead me into thewildest solitudes of the forest--I follow the trout in its stream, because I am guided into still retreats, by the margin of shady pools, where human foot rarely treads. Once in the haunts of the fish and thegame, my sporting energy dies within me. My rod-spear pierces the turf, my gun lies neglected by my side, and I yield up my soul to a divinerdalliance with the beauties of Nature. Oh, I am a rare lover of thesylvan scene!

And yet, for all this, I freely admit that the first hours spent in agreat city have for me a peculiar fascination. A world of new pleasuresis suddenly placed within reach--a world of luxury opened up. The soulis charmed with rare joys. Beauty and song, wine and the dance, varytheir allurements. Love, or it may be passion, beguiles you into manyan incident of romantic adventure; for romance may be found within thewalled city. The human heart is its home, and they are but Quixoticdreamers who fancy that steam and civilisation are antagonistic to thepurest aspirations of poetry. A sophism, indeed, is the chivalry of thesavage. His rags, so picturesque, often cover a shivering form and ahungry stomach. Soldier though I may claim to be, I prefer the cheeringroll of the busy mill to the thunder of the cannon--I regard the tallchimney, with its banner of black smoke, a far nobler sight than thefortress turret with its flouting and fickle flag. I hear sweet musicin the plashing of the paddle-wheel; and in my ears a nobler sound isthe scream of the iron horse than the neigh of the pampered war-steed. A nation of monkeys may manage the business of gunpowder: they must bemen to control the more powerful element of steam. 

These ideas will not suit the puling sentimentalism of the boudoir andthe boarding-school. The Quixotism of the modern time will be angrywith the rough writer who thus rudely lays his hand upon the helm of themailed knight, and would deflower it of its glory and glossy plumes. Itis hard to yield up prejudices and preconceptions, however false; andthe writer himself in doing so confesses to the cost of a struggle of noordinary violence. It was hard to give up the Homeric illusion, andbelieve that Greeks were men, not demigods--hard to recognise in theorgan-man and the opera-singer the descendants of those heroes portrayedin the poetic pictures of a Virgil; and yet in the days of my dreamyyouth, when I turned my face to the West, I did so under the fullconviction that the land of prose was before me and the land of poetrybehind my back!

Thanks to Saint Hubert and the golden ring of the word "Mexico, " I didturn my face in that direction: and no sooner had I set foot on thoseglorious shores, trodden by a Columbus and a Cortez, than I recognisedthe home both of the poetic and the picturesque. In that very land, called prosaic--the land of dollars--I inhaled the very acme of thepoetic spirit; not from the rhythm of books, but expressed in the mostbeautiful types of the human form, in the noblest impulses of the humansoul, in rock and stream, in bird, and leaf and flower. In that verycity, which, thanks to perjured and prejudiced travellers, I had beentaught to regard as a sort of outcast camp, I found humanity in itsfairest forms--progress blended with pleasure--civilisation adorned withthe spirit of chivalry as with a wreath. Prosaic indeed! adollar-loving people! I make bold to assert, that in the concave ofthat little crescent where lies the city of New Orleans will be found apsychological _melange_ of greater variety and interest than exists inany space of equal extent on the globe's surface. There the passions, favoured by the clime, reach their fullest, highest development, Loveand hate, joy and grief, avarice, ambition--all attain to perfectvigour. There, too, the moral virtues are met with in full purity. Cant has there no home, hypocrisy must be deep indeed to avoid exposureand punishment. Genius is almost universal--universal, too, isactivity. The stupid and the slothful cannot exist in this moving worldof busy life and enjoyment. 

An ethnological _melange_ as well this singular city presents. Perhapsno other city exhibits so great a variety of nationalities as in itsstreets. Founded by the French, held by the Spaniards, "annexed" by theAmericans, these three nations form the elements of its population. Butyou may, nevertheless, there meet with representatives of most othercivilised, and of many "savage" people. The Turk in his turban, theArab in his burnouse, the Chinaman with shaven scalp and queue, theblack son of Africa, the red Indian, the swarthy Mestize, yellowMulatto, the olive Malay, the light graceful Creole, and the not lessgraceful Quadroon, jostle each other in its streets, and jostle with thered-blooded races of the North, the German and Gael, the Russ and Swede, the Fleming, the Yankee, and the Englishman. An odd human mosaic--amottled piebald mixture is the population of the Crescent City. 

In truth, New Orleans is a great metropolis, more of a city than placesof much greater population either in Europe or America. In passingthrough its streets you feel that you are not in a provincial town. Itsshops exhibit the richest goods, of best workmanship. Palace-likehotels appear in every street. Luxurious _cafes_ invite you into theirelegant saloons. Theatres are there--grand architectural temples--inwhich you may witness the drama well performed in French, and German, and English, and in its season you may listen to the soul-moving musicof the Italian opera. If you are a lover of the Terpsichorean art, youwill fold New Orleans, _par excellence_, the town to your taste. 

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I knew the capacities of New Orleans to afford pleasure. I wasacquainted with the sources of enjoyment, yet I sought them not. Aftera long interval of country life I entered the city without a thought ofits gaieties--a rare event in the life even of the most sedate. Themasquerades, the quadroon-balls, the drama, the sweet strains of theOpera, had lost their attractions for me. No amusement could amuse meat that moment. One thought alone had possession of my heart--Aurore!There was room for no other. 

I pondered as to how I should act. 

Place yourself in my position, and you will surely acknowledge it adifficult one. First, I was in love with this beautiful quadroon--inlove beyond redemption. Secondly, she, the object of my passion, wasfor _sale_, and by _public auction_! Thirdly, I was jealous--ayjealous, of that which might be sold and bought like a bale of cotton, --a barrel of sugar! Fourthly, I was still uncertain whether I shouldhave it in my power to become the purchaser. I was still uncertainwhether my banker's letter had yet reached New Orleans. Ocean steamerswere not known at this period, and the date of a European mail could notbe relied upon with any degree of certainty. Should that not come tohand in due time, then indeed should my misery reach its culminatingpoint. Some one else would become possessed of all I held dear onearth--would be her lord and master--with power to do aught--oh God! theidea was fearful. I could not bear to dwell upon it. 

Again, even should my letter reach me in time, would the amount Iexpected be enough? Five hundred pounds sterling--five times five--twenty-five hundred dollars! Would twenty-five hundred be the price ofthat which was priceless?

I even doubted whether it would. I knew that a thousand dollars was atthat time the "average value" of a slave, and it was rare when oneyielded twice that amount. It must be a strong-bodied man--a skilfulmechanic, a good blacksmith, an expert barber, to be worth such a sum!

But for Aurore. Oh! I had heard strange tales of "fancy prices, " forsuch a "lot"--of brisk competition in the bidding--of men with longpurses and lustful thoughts eagerly contending for such a prize. 

Such thoughts might harrow the soul even under the most ordinarycircumstances! what was their effect upon me? I cannot describe thefeelings I experienced. 

Should the sum reach me in time--should it prove enough--should I evensucceed in becoming the _owner_ of Aurore, what then? What if myjealousy were well founded? What if she loved me not? Worse dilemmathan ever. I should only have her body--then her heart and soul wouldbe another's. I should live in exquisite torture--the slave of a slave!

Why should I attempt to purchase her at all? Why not make a boldeffort, and free myself from this delirious passion? She is not worthyof the sacrifice I would make for her. No--she has deceived me--surelyshe has deceived me. Why not break my promise, plighted though it be inwords of fervid love? Why not flee from the spot, and endeavour toescape the torture that is maddening both my heart and brain? Oh! whynot?

In calmer moments, such questions might be thought worthy of an answer. I could not answer them. I did not even entertain them, --though, likeshadows, they flitted across my mind. In the then state of my feelings, prudence was unknown. Expediency had no place. I would not havelistened to its cold counsels. You who have passionately loved canalone understand me. I was resolved to risk fortune, fame, life--all--to possess the object I so deeply adored. 

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. 

VENTE IMPORTANTE DES NEGRES. 

"_L'abeille_, Monsieur?"

The _garcon_ who helped me to the fragrant cup, at the same time handedme a newspaper fresh from the press. 

It was a large sheet, headed upon one side "L'Abeille", on the reverseits synonyme in English, "The Bee. " Half of its contents were inFrench, half in English: each half was a counterpart--a translation ofthe other. 

I mechanically took the journal from the hand of the waiter, but withouteither the design or inclination to read it. Mechanically my eyeswandered over its broad-sheet--scarce heeding the contents. 

All at once, the heading of an advertisement fixed my gaze and myattention. It was on the "French side" of the paper. 

"Annoncement. "

"_Vente importante des Negres_!" Yes--it was they. The announcementwas no surprise to me. I expected as much. 

I turned to the translation on the reverse page, in order to comprehendit more clearly. There it was in all its broad black meaning:--

"_Important Sale of Negroes_!" I read on:--"_Estate in Bankruptcy. Plantation Besancon_!"

"Poor Eugenie!"

Farther:--

"_Forty able-bodied field-hands, of different ages. Several first-ratedomestic servants, coachman, cooks, chamber-maids, wagon-drivers. Anumber of likely mulatto boys and girls, from ten to twenty_, " etcetera, etcetera. 

The list followed _in extenso_. I read--

"Lot 1. _Scipio, 48. Able-bodied black, 5 foot 11 inches, understandshouse-work, and the management of horses. Sound and without blemish_. 

"Lot 2. _Hannibal, 40. Dark mulatto, 5 foot 9 inches, good coachman, sound and steady_. 

"Lot 3. _Cesar, 43. Black field-hand. Sound_, " etcetera, etcetera. 

My eyes could not wait for the disgusting details. They ran down thecolumn in search of that name. They would have lit upon it sooner, butthat my hands trembled, and the vibratory motion of the sheet almostprevented me from reading. It was there at length--_last upon thelist_! "Why last?" No matter--her "description" was there. 

Can I trust myself to read it? Down, burning heart, still your wildthrobbings!

"Lot 65. _Aurore. 19. Quadroon. Likely_--_good housekeeper, andsempstress_. "

Portrait sketched by refined pen--brief and graphic. 

"Likely, " ha! ha! ha! "Likely, " ha! ha! The brute who wrote thatparagraph would have described Venus as a likely gal. 

'Sdeath! I cannot jest--this desecration of all that is lovely--allthat is sacred--all that is dear to my heart, is torture itself. Theblood is boiling in my veins--my bosom is wrung with dire emotions!

The journal fell from my hands, and I bent forward over the table, myfingers clutching each other. I could have groaned aloud had I beenalone. But I was not. I sat in the great refectory of the hotel. Menwere near who would have jeered at my agony had they but known itscause. 

Some minutes elapsed before I could reflect on what I had read. I satin a kind of stupor, brought on by the violence of my emotions. 

Reflection came at length, and my first thought was of action. Morethan ever did I now desire to become the purchaser of the beautifulslave--to redeem her from this hideous bondage. I should buy her. Ishould set her free. True or false to me, I should accomplish this allthe same. I should make no claim for gratitude. She should choose forherself. She should be free, if not in the disposal of her gratitude, at least in that of her love. A love based only on gratitude would notcontent me. Such could not last. Her heart should freely bestowitself. If I had already won it, well. If not, and it had fixed itsaffection upon another--mine be the grief. Aurore, at all events, shallbe happy. 

My love had elevated my soul--had filled it with such noble resolves. 

And now to set her free. 

When was this hideous exhibition--this "Important Sale, " to come off?When was my betrothed to be sold, and I to assist at the spectacle?

I took up the paper again to ascertain the time and place. The place Iknew well--the Rotundo of the Saint Louis exchange--adjoining the hotel, and within twenty yards of where I sat. That was the slave-market. Butthe time--it was of more importance--indeed of all importance. StrangeI did not think of this before! Should it be at an early date, and myletter not have arrived! I dared not trust myself with such asupposition. Surely it would be a week--several days, at the least--before a sale of so much importance would take place. Ha! it may havebeen advertised for some days. The negroes may have been brought downonly at the last moment!

My hands trembled, as my eyes sought the paragraph. At length theyrested upon it. I read with painful surprise:--

"_To-morrow at twelve_!"

I looked to the date of the journal. All correct. It was the issue ofthat morning. I looked to the dial on the wall. The clock was on thestroke of _twelve_! Just one day to elapse. 

"O God! if my letter should not have arrived!"

I drew forth my purse, and mechanically told over its contents. I knewnot why I did so. I knew it contained but a hundred dollars. The"sportsmen" had reduced it in bulk. When I had finished counting it, Icould not help smiling at the absurdity of the thing. "A hundreddollars _for the quadroon! Likely_--_good housekeeper, etcetera! ahundred dollars bid_!" The auctioneer would not be likely to repeat thebid. 

All now depended on the English mail. If it had not arrived already, ordid not before the morning, I would be helpless. Without the letter onmy New Orleans banker, I could not raise fifty pounds--watch, jewels, and all. As to borrowing, I did not think of such a thing. Who was tolend me money? Who to an almost perfect stranger would advance such asum as I required? No one I felt certain. Reigart could not havehelped me to so large an amount, even had there been time to communicatewith him. No--there was no one who _would_, that _could_ have favouredme. No one I could think of. 

"Stop:"--the banker himself! Happy thought, the banker Brown! Good, generous Brown, of the English house, Brown and Co. , who, with smilingface, has already cashed my drafts for me. He will do it! The veryman! Why did I not think of him sooner? Yes; if the letter have notreached him I shall tell him that I expect it every day, and its amount. He will advance the money. 

"Twelve o'clock gone. There is no time to be lost. He's in hiscounting-house by this. I shall at once apply to him. "

I seized my hat, and hastening out of the hotel, took my way through thestreets towards the banking-house of Brown and Co. 

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO. 

BROWN AND CO. 

The banking-house of Brown and Co. Was in Canal Street. From the SaintLouis Exchange, Canal Street may be approached by the Rue Conti, or theparallel street of the Rue Royale. The latter is the favouritepromenade of the gay Creole-French, as Saint Charles Street is for thefashionable Americans. 

You will wonder at this _melange_ of French and English in thenomenclature of streets. The truth is, that New Orleans has apeculiarity somewhat rare. It is composed of two distinct cities--aFrench and an American one. I might even say _three_, for there is aSpanish quarter with a character distinct from either, and where you maysee on the corner the Spanish designation "Calle, " as the _Calle deCasacalvo, Calle del Obispo_, etcetera. This peculiarity is explainedby referring to the history of Louisiana. It was colonised by theFrench in the early part of the eighteenth century, New Orleans beingfounded in 1717. The French held Louisiana till 1762, when it was cededto Spain, and remained in her possession for a period of nearly fiftyyears--till 1798, when France once more became its master. Five yearsafter, in 1803, Napoleon sold this valuable country to the Americangovernment for 15, 000, 000 of dollars--the best bargain which BrotherJonathan has ever made, and apparently a slack one on the part ofNapoleon. After all, Napoleon was right. The sagacious Corsican, nodoubt, foresaw that it could not have long remained the property ofFrance. Sooner or later the American flag would wave over the CrescentCity, and Napoleon's easy bargain has no doubt saved America a war, andFrance a humiliation. 

This change of masters will explain the peculiarity of the population ofNew Orleans. The characteristics of all three nations are visible inits streets, in its houses, in the features, habits, and dress of itscitizens. In nothing are the national traces more distinctly markedthan in the different styles of architecture. In the American quarteryou have tall brick dwellings, several stories in height, their shiningfronts half occupied with rows of windows, combining the light andornamental with the substantial and useful. This is typical of theAnglo-American. Equally typical of the French character are the lightwooden one-storey houses, painted in gay colours, with green verandahpalings; windows that open as doors, and a profusion of gauzy curtainshanging behind them. 

Equally a type of the grand solemn character of the Spaniard, are themassive sombre structures of stone and lime, of the imposing Moorishstyle, that is still seen in many of the streets of New Orleans. Ofthese, the Great Cathedral is a fine specimen--that will stand as amonument of Spanish occupancy, long after both the Spanish and Frenchpopulation has been absorbed and melted down in the alembic of theAnglo-American propagandism. The American part of New Orleans is thatwhich is highest on the river--known as the Faubourgs Saint Mary andAnnunciation. Canal Street separates it from the French quarter--whichlast is the old city, chiefly inhabited by Creole-French and Spaniards. 

A few years ago, the French and American populations were about equal. Now the Saxon element predominates, and rapidly absorbs all the others. In time the indolent Creole must yield to the more energetic American--in other words, New Orleans will be Americanised. Progress andcivilisation will gain by this, at the expense--according to thesentimental school--of the poetic and picturesque. 

Two distinct cities, then, are there in New Orleans. Each has itsExchange distinct from the other--a distinct municipal court and publicoffices--each has its centre of fashionable resort--its favouritepromenade for the _flaneurs_, of which the South-western metropolis canboast a large crowd--its own theatres, ballrooms, hotels, and cafes. Infact, a walk of a few paces transports one into quite a different world. The crossing of Canal Street is like being transferred from Broadway tothe Boulevards. 

In their occupations there is a wide difference between the inhabitantsof the two quarters. The Americans deal in the strong staples of humanlife. The great depots of provisions, of cotton, of tobacco, of lumber, and the various sorts of raw produce, will be found among them. On theother hand, the finer fabrics, the laces, the jewels, the modes andmodistes, the silks and satins, and all articles of _bijouterie_ and_virtu_, pass through the lighter fingers of the Creoles--for theseinherit both the skill and taste of their Parisian progenitors. Fineold rich wine-merchants, too, will be found in the French part, who havemade fortunes by importing the wines of Bordeaux and Champagne--forclaret and champagne are the wines that flow most freely on the banks ofthe Mississippi. 

A feeling of jealousy is not wanting between the two races. The strongenergetic Kentuckian affects to despise the gay pleasure-lovingFrenchman, while the latter--particularly the old Creole noblesse--regard with contempt the _bizarrerie_ of the Northern, so that feuds andcollisions between them are not infrequent. New Orleans is, _parexcellence_, the city of the duello. In all matters of this kind theKentuckian finds the Creole quite his equal--his full match in spirit, courage, and skill. I know many Creoles who are notorious for thenumber of their duels. An opera-singer or _danseuse_ frequently causeshalf a score or more--according to her merits, or mayhap her demerits. The masqued and quadroon-balls are also frequent scenes of quarrel amongthe wine-heated bloods who frequent them. Let no one fancy that life inNew Orleans is without incident or adventure. A less prosaic city itwould be hard to find. 

These subjects did _not_ come before my mind as I walked towards thebanking-house of Brown and Co. My thoughts were occupied with a fardifferent theme--one that caused me to press on with an agitated heartand hurried steps. 

The walk was long enough to give me time for many a hypotheticcalculation. Should my letter and the bill of exchange have arrived, Ishould be put in possession of funds at once, --enough, as I supposed, for my purpose--enough to buy my slave-bride! If not yet arrived, howthen? Would Brown advance the money? My heart throbbed audibly as Iasked myself this question. Its answer, affirmative or negative, wouldbe to me like the pronouncement of a sentence of life or death. 

And yet I felt more than half certain that Brown would do so. I couldnot fancy his smiling generous John-Bull face clouded with theseriousness of a refusal. Its great importance to me at that moment--the certainty of its being repaid, and in a few days, or hours at thefarthest--surely he would not deny me! What to him, a man of millions, could be the inconvenience of advancing five hundred pounds? Oh! hewould do it to a certainty. No fear but he would do it!

I crossed the threshold of the man of money, my spirits buoyant withsweet anticipation. When I recrossed it my soul was saddened withbitter disappointment. My letter had not yet arrived--Brown refused theadvance!

I was too inexperienced in business to comprehend its sordidcalculations--its cold courtesy. What cared the banker for my pressingwants? What to him was my ardent appeal? Even had I told him mymotives, my object, it would have been all the same. That game colddenying smile would have been the reply--ay, even had my life dependedupon it. 

I need not detail the interview. It was brief enough. I was told, witha bland smile, that my letter had not yet come to hand. To my proposalfor the advance the answer was blunt enough. The kind generous smileblanked off Brown's ruddy face. It was not business. It could not bedone. There was no sign thrown out--no invitation to talk farther. Imight have appealed in a more fervent strain. I might have confessedthe purpose for which I wanted the money, but Brown's face gave me noencouragement. Perhaps it was as well I did not. Brown would havechuckled over my delicate secret. The town, over its tea-table, wouldhave relished it as a rich joke. 

Enough--my letter had not arrived--Brown refused the advance. With Hopebehind me and Despair in front, I hurried back to the hotel. 

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. 

EUGENE D'HAUTEVILLE. 

The remainder of the day I was occupied in searching for Aurore. Icould learn nothing of her--not even whether she had yet reached thecity!

In search of her I went to the quarters where the others had theirtemporary lodgment. She was not these. She had either not yet arrived, or was kept at some other place. They had not seen her! They knewnothing about her. 

Disappointed and wearied with running through the hot and dusty streets, I returned to the hotel. 

I waited for night. I waited for the coming of Eugene d'Hauteville, forsuch was the name of my new acquaintance. 

I was strangely interested in this young man. Our short interview hadinspired me with a singular confidence in him. He had given proof of afriendly design towards me; and still more had impressed me with a highidea of his knowledge of the world. Young as he was, I could not helpfancying him a being possessed of some mysterious power. I could nothelp thinking that in some way he might aid me. There was nothingremarkable in his being so young and still _au-fait_ to all themysteries of life. Precocity is the privilege of the American, especially the native of New Orleans. A Creole at fifteen is a man. 

I felt satisfied that D'Hauteville--about my own age--knew far more ofthe world than I, who had been half my life cloistered within the wallsof an antique university. 

I had an instinct that he both _could_ and _would_ serve me. 

How? you may ask. By lending me the money I required?

It could not be thus. I believed that he was himself without funds, orpossessed of but little--far too little to be of use to me. My reasonfor thinking so was the reply he had made when I asked for his address. There was something in the tone of his answer that led me to the thoughtthat he was without fortune--even without a home. Perhaps a clerk outof place, thought I; or a poor artist. His dress was rich enough--butdress is no criterion on a Mississippi steamboat. 

With these reflections it was strange I should have been impressed withthe idea _he_ could serve me! But I was so, and had therefore resolvedto make him the confidant of my secret--the secret of my love--thesecret of my misery. 

Perhaps another impulse acted upon me, and aided in bringing me to thisdetermination. He whose heart has been charged with a deep grief mustknow the relief which sympathy can afford. The sympathy of friendshipis sweet and soothing. There is balm in the counsel of a kindcompanion. 

My sorrow had been long pent up within my own bosom, and yearned to findexpression. Stranger among strangers, I had no one to share it with me. Even to the good Reigart I had not confessed myself. With theexception of Aurore herself, Eugenie--poor Eugenie--was alone mistressof my secret. Would that she of all had never known it!

Now to this youth Eugene--strange coincidence of name!--I was resolvedto impart it--resolved to unburden my heart. Perhaps, in so doing Imight find consolation or relief. 

I waited for the night. It was at night he had promised to come. Iwaited with impatience--with my eyes bent almost continuously on theindex finger of time, and chafing at the slow measured strokes of thependulum. 

I was not disappointed. He came at length. His silvery voice rang inmy ears, and he stood before me. 

As he entered my room, I was once more struck with the melancholyexpression of his countenance--the pale cheek--the resemblance to someface I had met before. 

The room was close and hot. The summer had not yet quite departed. Iproposed a walk. We could converse as freely in the open air, and therewas a lovely moon to light us on our way. 

As we sallied forth, I offered my visitor a cigar. This he declined, giving his reason. He did not smoke. 

Strange, thought I, for one of a race, who almost universally indulge inthe habit. Another peculiarity in the character of my new acquaintance!

We passed up the Rue Royale, and turned along Canal Street in thedirection of the "Swamp. " Presently we crossed the Rue des Rampartes, and soon found ourselves outside the limits of the city. 

Some buildings appeared beyond, but they were not houses--at least notdwelling-places for the living. The numerous cupolas crowned withcrosses--the broken columns--the monuments of white marble, gleamingunder the moon, told us that we looked upon a city of the dead. It wasthe great cemetery of New Orleans--that cemetery where the poor afterdeath are _drowned_, and the rich fare no better, for they are _baked_!

The gate stood open--the scene within invited me--its solemn characterwas in unison with my spirit. My companion made no objection, and weentered. 

After wending our way among tombs, and statues, and monuments; miniaturetemples, columns, obelisks, sarcophagi carved in snow-white marble--passing graves that spoke of recent affliction--others of older date, but garnished with fresh flowers--the symbols of lore or affection thatstill lingered--we seated ourselves upon a moss-grown slab, with thefronds of the Babylonian willow waving above our heads, and droopingmournfully around us. 

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR. 

PITY FOR LOVE. 

Along the way we had conversed upon several topics indifferently--of mygambling adventure on the boat--of the "sportsmen" of New Orleans--ofthe fine moonlight. 

Until after entering the cemetery, and taking our seats upon the tomb, Ihad disclosed nothing of that which altogether engrossed my thoughts. The time had now arrived for unbosoming myself, and half-an-hour afterEugene D'Hauteville knew the story of my love. 

I confided to him all that had occurred from the time of my leaving NewOrleans, up to the period of our meeting upon the Houma. My interviewwith the banker Brown, and my fruitless search that day for Aurore, werealso detailed. 

From first to last he listened without interrupting me; only once, whenI described the scene of my confession to Eugenie, and its painfulending. The details of this seemed to interest him exceedingly--infact, to give him pain. More than once I was interrupted by his sobs, and by the light of the moon I could see that he was in tears!

"Noble youth!" thought I, "thus to be affected by the sufferings of astranger!"

"Poor Eugenie!" murmured he, "is _she_ not to be pitied?"

"Pitied! ah, Monsieur; you know not how much I pity her! That scenewill never be effaced from my memory. If pity--friendship--anysacrifice could make amends, how willingly would I bestow it upon her--all but that which is not in my power to give--my love. Deeply, Monsieur D'Hauteville--deeply do I grieve for that noble lady. Oh, thatI could pluck the sting from her heart which I have been the innocentcause of placing there. But surely she will recover from thisunfortunate passion? Surely in time--"

"Ah! never! never!" interrupted D'Hauteville, with an earnestness ofmanner that surprised me. 

"Why say you so, Monsieur?"

"Why?--because I have some skill in such affairs; young as you think me, _I_ have experienced a similar misfortune. Poor Eugenie! _Such a woundis hard to heal_; she will not recover from it. Ah--never!"

"Indeed, I pity her--with my whole soul I pity her. "

"You should seek her and say so. "

"Why?" I asked, somewhat astonished at the suggestion. 

"Perhaps your pity expressed to her might give consolation. "

"Impossible. It would have the contrary effect. "

"You misjudge, Monsieur. Unrequited love is far less hard to bear whenit meets with sympathy. It is only haughty contempt and heartlesstriumph that wring blood-drops from the heart. Sympathy is balm to thewounds of love. Believe me it is so. _I feel it to be so. Oh! I feelit to be_ so!"

The last two phrases he spoke with an earnestness that sounded strangelyin my ears. 

"Mysterious youth!" thought I. "So gentle, so compassionate, and yet soworldly-wise!"

I felt as though I conversed with some spiritual being--some superiormind, who comprehended all. 

His doctrine was new to me, and quite contrary to the general belief. At a later period of my life I became convinced of its truth. 

"If I thought my sympathy would have such an effect, " replied I, "Ishould seek Eugenie--I should offer her--"

"There will be a time for that afterward, " said D'Hauteville, interrupting me; "your present business is more pressing. You purposeto _buy this quadroon_?"

"I did so this morning. Alas! I have no longer a hope. It will not bein my power. "

"How much money have these sharpers left you?"

"Not much over one hundred dollars. "

"Ha! that will not do. From your description of her she will bring tentimes the amount. A misfortune, indeed! My own purse is still lighterthan yours. I have not a hundred dollars. _Pardieu_! it is a sadaffair. "

D'Hauteville pressed his head between his hands, and remained for somemoments silent, apparently in deep meditation. From his manner I couldnot help believing that he really sympathised with me, and that he wasthinking of some plan to assist me. 

"After all, " he muttered to himself, just loud enough for me to hearwhat was said, "if she should not succeed--if she should not find thepapers--then she, too, must be a sacrifice. Oh! it is a terrible risk. It might be better not--it might be--"

"Monsieur!" I said, interrupting him, "of what are you speaking?"

"Oh!--ah! pardon me: it is an affair I was thinking of--_n'importe_. Wehad better return, Monsieur. It is cold. The atmosphere of this solemnplace chills me. "

He said all this with an air of embarrassment, as though he had beenspeaking his thoughts unintentionally. 

Though astonished at what he had uttered, I could not press him for anexplanation; but, yielding to his wish, I rose up to depart. I had losthope. Plainly he had it not in his power to serve me. 

At this moment a resource suggested itself to my mind, or rather theforlorn hope of a resource. 

I communicated it to my companion. 

"I have still these two hundred dollars, " said I, "They are of no moreservice to me for the purchase of Aurore than if they were so manypebbles. Suppose I try to increase the amount at the gaming-table?"

"Oh, I fear it would be an idle attempt. You would lose as before. "

"That is not so certain, Monsieur. The chances at least are equal. Ineed not play with men of skill, like those upon the boat. Here in NewOrleans there are gaming-houses, plenty of them, where _games of chance_are carried on. These are of various kinds--as _faro, craps, loto_, and_roulette_. I can choose some one of these, where bets are made on thetossing of a die or the turning of a card. It is just as likely I maywin as lose. What say you, Monsieur? Give me your counsel. "

"You speak truly, " replied he. "There is a chance in the game. Itoffers a hope of your winning. If you lose, you will be no worse off asregards your intentions for to-morrow. If you win--"

"True, true--if I win--"

"You must not lose time, then. It is growing late. These gaming-housesshould be open at this hour: no doubt, they are now in the very tide oftheir business. Let us find one. "

"You will go with me? Thanks, Monsieur D'Hauteville!Thanks--_allons_!"

We hastily traversed the walk that led to the entrance of the cemetery;and, issuing from the gate, took our way back into the town. 

We headed for our point of departure--the Rue Saint Louis; for I knewthat in that neighbourhood lay the principal gambling hells. 

It was not difficult to find them. At that period there was noconcealment required in such matters. The gambling passion among theCreoles, inherited from the original possessors of the city, was toorife among all classes to be put down by a police. The municipalauthorities in the American quarter had taken some steps toward thesuppression of this vice; but their laws had no force on the French sideof Canal Street; and Creole police had far different ideas, as well asdifferent instructions. In the French faubourgs gaming was notconsidered so hideous a crime, and the houses appropriated to it wereopen and avowed. 

As you passed along Rue Conti, or Saint Louis, or the Rue Bourbon, youcould not fail to notice several large gilded lamps, upon which youmight read "faro" and "craps", "loto" or "roulette, "--odd words to theeyes of the uninitiated, but well enough understood by those whosebusiness it was to traverse the streets of the "First Municipality. "

Our hurrying stops soon brought us in front of one of theseestablishments, whose lamp told us in plain letters that "faro" wasplayed inside. 

It was the first that offered; and, without hesitating a moment, Ientered, followed by D'Hauteville. 

We had to climb a wide stairway, at the top of which we were received bya whiskered and moustached fellow in waiting. I supposed that he wasabout to demand some fee for admission. I was mistaken in myconjecture. Admission was perfectly free. The purpose of thisindividual in staying us was to divest us of arms, for which he handedus a ticket, that we might reclaim them in going out. That he haddisarmed a goodly number before our turn came, was evident from thenumerous butts of pistols, hafts of bowie-knives, and handles ofdaggers, that protruded from the pigeon-holes of a shelf-like structurestanding in one corner of the passage. 

The whole proceeding reminded me of the scenes I had often witnessed--the surrender of canes, umbrellas, and parasols, on entering apicture-gallery or a museum. No doubt it was a necessary precaution--the non-observance of which would have led to many a scene of blood overthe gaming-table. 

We yielded up our weapons--I a pair of pistols, and my companion a smallsilver dagger. These were ticketed, duplicates delivered to us, and wewere allowed to pass on into the "_saloon_. "

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE. 

ON GAMES AND GAMBLING. 

The passion of gaming is universal amongst men. Every nation indulgesin it to a greater or less extent. Every nation, civilised or savage, has its game, from whist and cribbage at Almacks to "chuck-a-luck" and"poke-stick" upon the prairies. 

Moral England fancies herself clear of the stain. Her gossipingtraveller rarely fails to fling a stone at the foreigner on this head. French, German, Spaniard, and Mexican, are in turn accused of an unduepropensity for this vice. Cant--all cant! There is more gambling inmoral England than in any country of my knowing. I do not speak ofcard-playing about the purlieus of Piccadilly. Go to Epsom races on a"Derby day, " and there you may form an idea of the scale upon whichEnglish gaming is carried on--for gaming it is in the very lowest senseof the word. Talk of "noble sport, "--of an admiration for that fineanimal--the horse. Bah! Noble, indeed! Fancy those seedy scamps, whoin thousands and tens of thousands flock upon every race-course, --fancythem and their harlotic companions possessed with the idea of anythingfine or noble! Of all who crowd there the horse alone is noble--naughtcould be more ignoble than his _entourage_. 

No, moral England! You are no pattern for the nations in this respect. You are not free from the stain, as you imagine yourself. You have alarger population of gamblers, --_horse-gamblers_ if you will, than anyother people; and, however noble be your game, I make bold to affirmthat your gamesters are the seediest, snobbiest, and most revolting ofthe tribe. There is something indescribably mean in the life and habitsof those hungry-looking vultures who hang about the corners of CoventryStreet and the Haymarket, out at elbows, out at heels, sneaking fromtavern to betting-house, and from betting-house to tavern. There is ameanness, a positive cowardice in the very nature of their game, --theirsmall ventures and timid "hedging" of bets. In comparison, the boldringer of dice has something _almost_ noble in him. Your apathetic Don, who stakes his gold onzas on a single throw of the ivory--your Mexicanmonte-player, who risks his doubloons on each turn of the cards, --are, to some extent, dignified by the very boldness of their venture. Withthem gambling is a passion--its excitement their lure; but Brown, andSmith, and Jones, cannot even plead _the passion_. Even _that_ wouldexalt them. 

Of all gamblers by profession the "sportsman" of the Mississippi Valleyis perhaps the most picturesque. I have already alluded to theirelegant style of attire, but, independent of that, there is a dash ofthe gentleman--a certain _chivalresqueness_ of character whichdistinguishes them from all others of their calling. During the wilderepisodes of my life I have been _honoured_ with the acquaintance of morethan one of these _gentlemen_, and I cannot help bearing a somewhat hightestimony in their favour. Several have I met of excellent moralcharacter, --though, perhaps, not quite up to the standard of ExeterHall. Some I have known of noble and generous hearts--doers of nobleactions--who, though outcasts in society, were not outcasts to their ownnatures; men who would bravely resent the slightest insult that might beput upon them. Of course there were others, as the Chorleys andHatchers, who would scarce answer to this description of Western"sportsmen"--but I really believe that such are rather the exceptionthan the rule. A word about the "games of America. " The true nationalgame of the United States is the "election. " The local or stateelections afford so many opportunities of betting, just as the minorhorse-races do in England; while the great quadrennial, the Presidentialelection, is the "Derby day" of America. The enormous sums that changehands upon such occasions, and the enormous number of them, would beincredible. A statistic of these bets, could such be given, and theiramount, would surprise even the most "enlightened citizen" of the Statesthemselves. Foreigners cannot understand the intense excitement whichis felt during an election time throughout the United States. It wouldbe difficult to explain it, in a country where men generally know thatthe fate of the particular candidate has, after all, but a slightinfluence on their material interests. True, party spirit and the greatstake of all--the "spoils" of office--will account for some of theinterest taken in the result, but not for all. I am of opinion that the"balance" of the excitement may be set down to the credit of the gamingpassion. Nearly every second man you meet has a bet, or rather a"book, " upon the Presidential election!

Election, therefore, is the true national game, indulged in by high, low, rich, and poor. 

To bet upon an election, however, is not considered _infra dig_. It isnot _professional_ gambling. 

The games for that purpose are of various kinds--in most of which cardsare relied upon to furnish the chances. Dice and billiards are also invogue--billiards to a considerable extent. It is a very mean village inthe United States--particularly in the South and West--that does notfurnish one or more public billiard-tables; and among Americans may befound some of the most expert (crack) players in the world. The"Creoles" of Louisiana are distinguished at this game. 

"Ten-pins" is also a very general game, and every town has its "ten-pinalley. " But "billiards" and "ten-pins" are not true "gambling games. "The first is patronised rather as an elegant amusement, and the latteras an excellent exercise. Cards and dice are the real weapons of the"sportsman, " but particularly the former. Besides the English games ofwhist and cribbage, and the French games of "vingt-un", "rouge-et-noir, "etcetera, the American gambler plays "poker", "euchre", "seven-up, " anda variety of others. In New Orleans there is a favourite of the Creolescalled "craps, " a dice game, and "keno, " and "loto, " and "roulette, "played with balls and a revolving wheel. Farther to the South, amongthe Spano-Mexicans, you meet the game of "monte, "--a card game, distinctfrom all the others. Monte is the national game of Mexico. 

To all other modes of getting at your money, the South-Western sportsmanprefers "faro. " It is a game of Spanish origin, as its name imports;indeed, it differs but little from monte, and was no doubt obtained fromthe Spaniards of New Orleans. Whether native or exotic to the towns ofthe Mississippi Valley, in all of them it has become perfectlynaturalised; and there is no sportsman of the West who does notunderstand and practise it. 

The game of faro is simple enough. The following are its leadingfeatures:--

A green cloth or baize covers the table. Upon this the thirteen cardsof a suite are laid out in two rows, with their faces turned up. Theyare usually attached to the cloth by gum, to prevent them from gettingout of place. 

A square box, like an overgrown snuff-box, is next produced. It is ofthe exact size and shape to hold two packs of cards. It is of solidsilver. Any other metal would serve as well; but a professed "farodealer" would scorn to carry a mean implement of his calling. Theobject of this box is to hold the cards to be dealt, and to assist indealing them. I cannot explain the internal mechanism of thismysterious box; but I can say that it is without a lid, open at oneedge--where the cards are pressed in--and contains an interior spring, which, touched by the finger of the dealer, pushes out the cards one byone as they lie in the pack. This contrivance is not at all essentialto the game, which may be played without the box. Its object is toinsure a fair deal, as no card can be recognised by any mark on itsback, since up to the moment of drawing they are all invisible withinthe box. A stylish "faro box" is the ambition of every "faro dealer"--the specific title of all "sportsmen" whose game is faro. 

Two packs of cards, well shuffled, are first put into the box; and thedealer, resting the left hand upon it, and holding the right inreadiness, with the thumb extended, pauses a moment until some bets aremade. The "dealer" is in reality your antagonist in the game; he is the"banker" who pays all your gains, and pockets all your losses. As manymay bet as can sit or stand around the table; but all are bettingagainst the dealer himself. Of course, in this case, the faro dealermust be something of a proprietor to play the game at all; and the "farobank" has usually a capital of several thousands of dollars--oftenhundreds of thousands to back it! Not unfrequently, after an unluckyrun, the bank gets "broke;" and the proprietor of it may be years beforehe can establish another. An assistant or "croupier" usually sitsbeside the dealer. His business is to exchange the "cheques" for money, to pay the bets lost, and gather in those which the bank has won. 

The cheques used in the game are pieces of ivory of circular form, ofthe diameter of dollars: they are white, red, or blue, with the valueengraved upon them, and they are used as being more convenient than themoney itself. When any one wishes to leave off playing, he can demandfrom the bank to the amount specified on the cheques he may then hold. 

The simplest method of betting "against faro" is by placing the money onthe face of any particular one of the cards that lie on the table. Youmay choose which you will of the thirteen. Say you have selected theace, and placed your money upon the face of that card. The dealer thencommences, and "draws" the cards out of the box one by one. Afterdrawing each two he makes a pause. Until two aces follow each other, with no other card between, there is no decision. When two aces cometogether the bet is declared. If both appear in the drawing of the twocards, then the dealer takes your money; if only one is pulled out, andthe other follows in the next drawing, you have won. You may then renewyour bet upon the ace--double it if you will, or remove it to any othercard--and these changes you may make at any period of the deal--providedit is not done after the first of the two cards has been drawn. 

Of course the game goes on, whether you play or not. The table issurrounded by betters; some on one card, some on another; some by"paralee, " on two or more cards at a time; so that there is a constant"falling due" of bets, a constant rattling of cheques and chinking ofdollars. 

It is all a game of chance. "Skill" has naught to do with the game offaro; and you might suppose, as many do, that the chances are exactlyequal for the dealer and his opponents. Such, however, is not the case;a peculiar arrangement of the cards produces a percentage in favour ofthe former, else there would be no faro bank; and although a rare run ofill-fortune may go against the dealer for a time, if he can only holdout long enough, he is "bound to beat you" in the end. 

A similar percentage will be against you in all games of chance--"faro, ""monte, " or "craps, " wherever you bet against a "banker. " Of course thebanker will not deny this, but answers you, that that _small_ percentageis to "pay for the game. " It usually does, and well. 

Such is faro--the game at which I had resolved to empty my purse, or winthe price of my betrothed. 

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX. 

THE FARO BANK. 

We entered the saloon. The game _voila_!

At one end was the table--the bank. We could see neither bank nordealer; both were hidden by the double ring of bettors, who encircledthe table--one line seated, the other standing behind. There werewomen, too, mingled in the crowd--seated and standing in everyattitude--gay and beautiful women, decked out in the finery of fashion, but with a certain _braverie_ of manner that betokened their unfortunatecharacter. 

D'Hauteville had guessed aright--the game was at its height. The lookand attitudes of the betters--their arms constantly in motion, placingtheir stakes--the incessant rattling of the ivory cheques, and theclinking together of dollars--all told that the game was progressingbriskly. 

A grand chandelier, suspended above the table, cast its brilliant lightover the play and the players. 

Near the middle of the saloon stood a large table, amply furnished with"refreshments. " Cold fowls, ham and tongue, chicken salad, andlobsters, cut-glass decanters tilled with wine, brandy, and otherliquors, garnished this table. Some of the plates and glasses bore thetraces of having been already used, while others were clean and readyfor anyone who chose to play knife and fork a while. It was, in fact, a"free lunch, " or rather supper--free to any guest who chose to partakeof it. Such is the custom of an American gambling-house. 

The rich viands did not tempt either my companion or myself. We passedthe table without halting, and walked directly up to the "bank. "

We reached the outer circle, and looked over the shoulders of theplayers. "_Shade of Fortuna! Chorley and Hatcher_!"

Yes--there sat the two sharpers, side by side, behind the faro-table--not as mere bettors, but acting respectively as banker and croupier ofthe game! Chorley held the dealing-box in his fingers, while Hatchersat upon his right, with cheques, dollars, and bank-notes piled upon thetable in front of him! A glance around the ring of faces showed us thepork-merchant as well. There sat he in his loose jeans coat and broadwhite-hat, talking farmer-like, betting bravely, and altogether astranger to both banker and croupier!

My companion and I regarded each other with a look of surprise. 

After all, there was nothing to surprise us. A faro bank needs nocharter, no further preliminaries to its establishment than to light upa table, spread a green baize over it, and commence operations. Thesportsmen were no doubt quite at home here. Their up-river excursionwas only by way of a little variety--an interlude incidental to thesummer. The "season" of New Orleans was now commencing, and they hadjust returned in time for it. Therefore there was nothing to besurprised at, in our finding them where we did. 

At first seeing them, however, I felt astonishment, and my companionseemed to share it. I turned towards him, and was about proposing thatwe should leave the room again, when the wandering eye of the pseudopork-merchant fell upon me. 

"Hilloa, stranger!" he cried out, with an air of astonishment, "youhyar?"

"I believe so, " I replied unconcernedly. 

"Wal! wal! I tho't you war lost. Whar did you go, anyhow?" he inquiredin a tone of vulgar familiarity, and loud enough to turn the attentionof all present upon myself and my companion. 

"Ay--_whar_ did I go?" I responded, keeping my temper, and concealingthe annoyance I really felt at the fellow's impudence. 

"Yes--that's jest what I wanted to know. "

"Are you very anxious?" I asked. 

"Oh, no--not particklerly so. "

"I am glad of that, " I responded, "as I don't intend telling you. "

With all his swagger I could see that his crest fell a little at thegeneral burst of laughter that my somewhat _bizarre_ remark had calledforth. 

"Come, stranger, " he said, in a half-deprecatory, half-spiteful tone, "you needn't a be so short-horned about it, I guess; I didn't mean nooffence--but you know you left us so suddintly--never mind--'taint nobusiness o' mine. You're going to take a hand at faro, ain't you?"

"Perhaps. "

"Wal, then, it appears a nice game. I'm jest trying it for the firsttime myself. It's all chance, I believe--jest like odds and evens. I'ma winnin' anyhow. "

He turned his face to the bank, and appeared to busy himself inarranging his bets. 

A fresh deal had commenced, and the players, drawn off for a moment byour conversation, became once more engaged in what was of greaterinterest to them--the little money-heaps upon the cards. 

Of course, both Chorley and Hatcher recognised me; but they hadrestricted their recognitions to a friendly nod, and a glance thatplainly said--

"He's here! all right! he'll not go till he has tried to get back hishundred dollars--he'll have a shy at the bank--no fear but he will. "

If such were their thoughts they were, not far astray. My ownreflections were as follows:--

"I may as well risk my money here as elsewhere. A faro bank is a farobank all the same. There is no opportunity for cheating, where cardsare thus dealt. The arrangement of the bets precludes every possibilityof such a thing. Where one player loses to the bank, another may winfrom it by the very same turn, and this of course checks the dealer fromdrawing the cards falsely, even if it were possible for him to do so. So I may as well play against Messrs. Chorley and Hatcher's bank as anyother--better, indeed; for if I am to win I shall have the satisfactionof the _revanche_, which those gentlemen owe me. I shall play herethen. Do you advise me, Monsieur?"

Part of the above reflections, and the interrogatory that wound them up, were addressed in a whisper to the young Creole. 

He acknowledged their justice. He advised me to remain. He was of theopinion I might as well tempt fortune there as go farther. 

Enough--I took out a five-dollar gold-piece, and placed it upon the ace. 

No notice was taken of this--neither banker nor croupier even turningtheir eyes in the direction, of the bet. Such a sum as five dollarswould not decompose the well-practised nerves of these gentlemen--wheresums of ten, twenty, or even fifty times the amount, were constantlypassing to and from their cash-box. 

The deal proceeded, Chorley drawing the cards with that air ofimperturbable _sang-froid_ so characteristic of his class. 

"Ace wins, " cried a voice, as two aces came forth together. 

"Pay you in cheques, sir?" asked the croupier. 

I assented, and a flat round piece of ivory, of a red colour, with thefigure 5 in its centre, was placed upon my half-eagle. I permitted bothto remain upon the ace. The deal went on, and after a while two acescame out together, and two more of the red cheques were mine. 

I suffered all four pieces, now worth twenty dollars, to lie. I had notcome there to amuse myself. My purpose was very different; and, impelled by that purpose, I was resolved not to waste time. If Fortunewas to prove favourable to me, her favours were as likely to be minesoon as late; and when I thought of the real stake for which I wasplaying, I could not endure the suspense. No more was I satisfied atcontact with the coarse and bawd company that surrounded the table. 

The deal went on--and after some time aces again came out. This time Ilost. 

Without a word passing from his lips, the croupier drew in the chequesand gold-piece, depositing them in his japanned cash-box, I took out mypurse, and tried ten dollars upon the queen, I won. I doubled the bet, and lost again. 

Another ten dollars won--another lost--another and another, and so on, now winning, now losing, now betting with cheques, now withgold-pieces--until at length I felt to the bottom of my purse withoutencountering a coin!

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. 

THE WATCH AND RING. 

I rose from my seat, and turned towards D'Hauteville with a glance ofdespair. I needed not to tell him the result. My look would haveannounced it, but he had been gazing over my shoulder and knew all. 

"Shall we go, Monsieur?" I asked. 

"Not yet--stay a moment, " replied he, placing his hand upon my arm. 

"And why?" I asked; "I have not a dollar. I have lost all. I mighthave known it would be so. Why stay here, sir?"

I spoke somewhat brusquely. I confess I was at the moment in anythingbut an amiable mood. In addition to my prospects for the morrow, asuspicion had flashed across my mind that my new friend was not loyal. His knowledge of these men--his having counselled me to play there--theaccident, to say the least, a strange one, of our again meeting with the"sportsmen" of the boat, and under such a new phase--the great celeritywith which my purse had been "cleared out"--all these circumstancespassing rapidly through my mind, led me naturally enough to suspectD'Hauteville of treason. I ran rapidly over our late conversation. Itried to remember whether he had said or done anything to guide me intothis particular hell. Certainly he had not proposed my playing, butrather opposed it; and I could not remember that by word or act he hadendeavoured to introduce me to the game. Moreover, he seemed as muchastonished as myself at seeing these gentlemen behind the table. 

What of all that? The surprise might have been well feigned. Possiblyenough; and after my late experience of the pork-merchant, probablyenough, Monsieur D'Hauteville was also a partner in the firm of Chorley, Hatcher, and Co. I wheeled round with an angry expression on my lips, when the current of my thoughts was suddenly checked, and turned into anew channel. The young Creole stood looking up in my face--he was notso tall as I--gazing upon me out of his beautiful eyes, and waitinguntil my moment of abstraction should pass. Something glittered in hisoutstretched hand. It was a purse. I could see the yellow coinsshining through the silken network. It was a purse of gold!

"Take it!" he said, in his soft silvery voice. 

My heart fell abashed within me. I could scarce stammer forth a reply. Had he but known my latest thoughts, he might have been able to read theflush of shame that so suddenly mantled my cheeks. 

"No, Monsieur, " I replied; "this is too generous of you. I cannotaccept it. "

"Come--come! Why not? Take it, I pray--try Fortune again. She hasfrowned on you of late, but remember she is a fickle goddess, and mayyet smile on you. Take the purse, man!"

"Indeed, Monsieur, I cannot after what I--pardon me--if you knew--"

"Then must _I_ play for you--remember the purpose that brought us here!Remember Aurore!"

"Oh!"

This ejaculation, wrung from my heart, was the only answer I could make, before the young Creole had turned to the faro-table, and was placinghis gold upon the cards. 

I stood watching him with feelings of astonishment and admiration, mingled with anxiety for the result. 

What small white hands! What a brilliant jewel, sparkling on hisfinger--a diamond! It has caught the eyes of the players, who gloatupon it as it passes back and forward to the cards. Chorley and Hatcherhave both noticed it. I saw them exchange their peculiar glance as theydid so. Both are polite to him. By the large bets he is laying he haswon their esteem. Their attention in calling out the card when he wins, and in handing him his cheques, is marked and assiduous. He is thefavoured better of the ring; and oh! how the eyes of those fair lemansgleam upon him with their wild and wicked meaning! Not one of them thatwould not love him for that sparkling gem!

I stood on one side watching with great anxiety--greater than if thestake had been my own. But it _was_ my own. It was _for me_. Thegenerous youth was playing away his gold for _me_. 

My suspense was not likely to be of long duration. He was losingrapidly--recklessly losing. He had taken my place at the table, andalong with it my ill-luck. Almost every bet he made was "raked" intothe bank, until his last coin lay upon the cards. Another turn, andthat, too, chinked as it fell into the cash-box of the croupier!

"Come now, D'Hauteville! Come away!" I whispered, leaning over, andlaying hold of his arm. 

"How much against this?" he asked the banker, without heeding me--"howmuch, sir?"

As he put the question, he raised the gold guard over his head, at thesame time drawing forth his watch. 

I suspected this was his intention when I first spoke. I repeated myrequest in a tone of entreaty--all in vain. He pressed Chorley for areply. 

The latter was not the man to waste words at such a crisis. 

"A hundred dollars, " said he, "for the watch--fifty more upon thechain. "

"Beautiful!" exclaimed one of the players. 

"They're worth more, " muttered another. 

Even in the _blaze_ hearts around that table there were human feelings. There is always a touch of sympathy for him who loses boldly; and anexpression of this in favour of the Creole youth could be heard, fromtime to time, as his money parted from him. 

"Yes, that watch and chain are worth more, " said a tall dark-whiskeredman, who sat near the end of the table. This remark was made in a firmconfident tone of voice, that seemed to command Chorley's attention. 

"I'll look at it again, if you please?" said he, stretching across thetable to D'Hauteville, who still held the watch in his hand. 

The latter surrendered it once more to the gambler, who opened the case, and commenced inspecting the interior. It was an elegant watch, andchain also--of the fashion usually worn by ladies. They were worth morethan Chorley had offered, though that did not appear to be the opinionof the pork-merchant. 

"It's a good pile o' money, is a hundred an' fifty dollars, " drawled he;"a good biggish pile, I reckon. I don't know much about such fixinsmeself, but it's full valley for that ar watch an' chain, I shed say. "

"Nonsense!" cried several: "two hundred dollars--it's worth it all. Seethe jewels!"

Chorley cut short the discussion. 

"Well, " said he, "I don't think it worth more than what I've bid, sir. But since you wish to get back what you've already lost, I don't mindstaking two hundred against watch and chain together. Does that satisfyyou?"

"Play on!" was the only answer made by the impatient Creole, as he tookback his watch, and laid it down upon one of the cards. 

It was a cheap watch to Chorley. It cost him but the drawing out ofhalf-a-dozen cards, and it became his!

"How much against this?"

D'Hauteville drew off his ring, and held it before the dazzled eyes ofthe dealer. 

At this crisis I once more interfered, but my remonstrance was unheeded. It was of no use trying to stay the fiery spirit of the Creole. 

The ring was a diamond, or rather a collection of diamonds in a goldsetting. It, like the watch, was also of the fashion worn by ladies;and I could hear some characteristic remarks muttered around the table, such as, "That young blood's got a rich girl somewhere", "There's morewhere they come from, " and the like!

The ring was evidently one of much value, as Chorley, after anexamination of it, proposed to stake four hundred dollars. The tall manin dark whiskers again interfered, and put it at five hundred. Thecircle backed him, and the dealer at length agreed to give that sum. 

"Will you take cheques, sir?" he inquired, addressing D'Hauteville, "ordo you mean to stake it at one bet?"

"At one bet, " was the answer. 

"No, no!" cried several voices, inclined to favour D'Hauteville. 

"At one bet, " repeated he, in a determined tone. "Place it upon theace!"

"As you wish, sir, " responded Chorley, with perfect _sang-froid_, at thesame time handing back the ring to its owner. 

D'Hauteville took the jewel in his slender white fingers, and laid it onthe centre of the card. It was the only bet made. The other playershad become so interested in the result, that they withheld their stakesin order to watch it. 

Chorley commenced drawing the cards. Each one as it came forth caused amomentary thrill of expectancy; and when aces, deuces, or tres withtheir broad white margins appeared outside the edge of that mysteriousbox, the excitement became intense. 

It was a long time before two aces came together. It seemed as if thevery importance of the stakes called for more than the usual time todecide the bet. 

It was decided at length. The ring followed the watch. 

I caught D'Hauteville by the arm, and drew him away from the table. This time he followed me unresistingly--as he had nothing more to lay. 

"What matters it?" said he, with a gay air as we passed together out ofthe saloon. "Ah! yes, " he continued, changing his tone, "ah, yes, itdoes matter! It matters to _you_, and _Aurore_!"

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT. 

MY FORLORN HOPE. 

It was pleasant escaping from that hot hell into the cool night air--into the soft light of a Southern moon. It would have been pleasantunder other circumstances; but then the sweetest clime and loveliestscene would have made no impression upon me. 

My companion seemed to share my bitterness of soul. His words ofconsolation were not without their influence; I knew they were theexpressions of a real sympathy. His acts had already proved it. 

It was, indeed, a lovely night. The white moon rode buoyantly throughfleecy clouds, that thinly dappled the azure sky of Louisiana, and asoft breeze played through the now silent streets. A lovely night--toosweet and balmy. My spirit would have preferred a storm. Oh! for blackclouds, red lightning, and thunder rolling and crashing through the sky. Oh! for the whistling wind, and the quick pattering of the rain-drops. Oh! for a hurricane without, consonant to the storm that was ragingwithin me!

It was but a few steps to the hotel; but we did not stop there. Wecould think better in the open air, and converse as well. Sleep had nocharms for me, and my companion seemed to share my impulses; so passingonce more from among the houses, we went on towards the Swamp, caringnot whither we went. 

We walked side by side for some time without exchanging speech. Ourthoughts were running upon the same theme, --the business of to-morrow. To-morrow no longer, for the tolling of the great cathedral clock hadjust announced the hour of midnight. In twelve hours more the _vente del'encan_ would commence--in twelve hours more they would be bidding, formy betrothed!

Our steps were towards the "Shell Road, " and soon our feet crunched uponthe fragments of unios and bivalves that strewed the path. Here was ascene more in unison with our thoughts. Above and around waved the darksolemn cypress-trees, fit emblems of grief--rendered doubly lugubriousin their expression by the hoary _tillandsia_, that draped them like acouch of the dead. The sounds, too, that here saluted our ears had asoothing effect; the melancholy "coowhoo-a" of the swamp-owl--thecreaking chirp of the tree-crickets and cicadas--the solemn "tong-tong"of the bell-frog--the hoarse trumpet-note of the greater batrachian--andhigh overhead the wild treble of the bull-bat, all mingled together in aconcert, that, however disagreeable under other circumstances, now fellupon my ears like music, and even imparted a kind of sad pleasure to mysoul. 

And yet it was not my darkest hour. A darker was yet in store for me. Despite the very hopelessness of the prospect, I still clung to hope. Avague feeling it was; but it sustained me against despair. The trunk ofa taxodium lay prostrate by the side of our path. Upon this we satdown. 

We had exchanged scarce a dozen words since emerging from the hell. Iwas busy with thoughts of the morrow: my young companion, whom I nowregarded in the light of an old and tried friend, was thinking of thesame. 

What generosity towards a stranger! what self-sacrifice! _Ah! littledid I then know of the vast extent_--_the noble grandeur of thatsacrifice_!

"There now remains but one chance, " I said; "the chance that to-morrow'smail, or rather to-day's, may bring my letter. It might still arrive intime; the mail is due by ten o'clock in the morning. "

"True, " replied my companion, seemingly too busy with his own thoughtsto give much heed to what I had said. 

"If not, " I continued, "then there is only the hope that he who shallbecome the purchaser, may afterwards sell her to _me_. I care not atwhat price, if I--"

"Ah!" interrupted D'Hauteville, suddenly waking from his reverie; "it isjust that which troubles me--that is exactly what I have been thinkingupon. I fear, Monsieur, I fear--"

"Speak on!"

"I fear there is no hope that he who buys her will be willing to sellher again. "

"And why? Will not a large sum--?"

"No--no--I fear that he who buys will not give her up again, _at anyprice_. "

"Ha! Why do you think so, Monsieur D'Hauteville. "

"I have my suspicion that a certain individual designs--"

"Who?"

"Monsieur Dominique Gayarre. "

"Oh! heavens! Gayarre! Gayarre!"

"Yes; from what you have told me--from what I know myself--for I, too, have some knowledge of Dominique Gayarre. "

"Gayarre! Gayarre! Oh, God!"

I could only ejaculate. The announcement had almost deprived me of thepower of speech. A sensation of numbness seemed to creep over me--aprostration of spirit, as if some horrid danger was impending and nigh, and I without the power to avert it. 

Strange this thought had not occurred to me before. I had supposed thatthe quadroon would be sold to some buyer in the ordinary course; someone who would be disposed to _resell_ at a profit--perhaps an enormousone; but in time I should be prepared for that. Strange I had neverthought of Gayarre becoming the purchaser. But, indeed, since the hourwhen I first heard of the bankruptcy, my thoughts had been running toowildly to permit me to reflect calmly upon anything. 

Now it was clear. It was no longer a conjecture; most certainly, Gayarre would become the master of Aurore. Ere another night her bodywould be his property. Her soul--Oh, God! Am I awake?--do I dream?

"I had a suspicion of this before, " continued D'Hauteville; "for I maytell you I know something of this family history--of Eugenie Besancon--of Aurore--of Gayarre the avocat. I had a suspicion before that Gayarremight desire to be the owner of Aurore. But now that you have told meof the scene in the dining-room, I no longer doubt this villain'sdesign. Oh! it is infamous. "

"Still further proof of it, " continued D'Hauteville. "There was a manon the boat--you did not notice him, perhaps--an agent for Gayarre insuch matters. A negro-trader--a fit tool for such a purpose. No doubthis object in coming down to the city is to be present at the sale--tobid for the poor girl. "

"But why, " I asked, catching at a straw of hope, --"why, since he wishesto possess Aurore, could he not have effected it by private contract?--why send her to the slave-market to public auction?"

"The law requires it. The slaves of an estate in bankruptcy must besold publicly to the highest bidder. Besides, Monsieur, bad as may bethis man, he dare not for the sake of his character act as you havesuggested. He is a thorough hypocrite, and, with all his wickedness, wishes to stand well before the world. There are many who believeGayarre a good man! He dare not act openly in this villainous design, and will not appear in it. To save scandal, the negro-trader will besupposed to purchase for himself. It is infamous!"

"Beyond conception! Oh! what is to be done to save her from thisfearful man? to save me--"

"It is of that I am thinking, and have been for the last hour. Be ofgood cheer, Monsieur! all hope is not lost. There is still one chanceof saving Aurore. There is one hope left. Alas! I have known thetime, --I, too, have been unfortunate--sadly--sadly--unfortunate. Nomatter now. We shall not talk of my sorrows till yours have beenrelieved. Perhaps, at some future time you may know me, and my griefs--no more of that now. There is still one chance for Aurore, and she andyou--both--may yet be happy. It must be so; I am resolved upon it. 'Twill be a wild act; but it is a wild story. Enough--I have no time tospare--I must be gone. Now to your hotel!--go and rest. To-morrow attwelve I shall be with you--at twelve in the Rotundo. Good night!Adieu. "

Without allowing me time to ask for an explanation, or make any reply, the Creole parted from me; and, plunging into a narrow street, soonpassed out of sight!

Pondering over his incoherent words--over his unintelligible promise--upon his strange looks and manner, --I walked slowly to my hotel. 

Without undressing I flung myself on my bed, without a thought of goingto sleep. 

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE. 

THE ROTUNDO. 

The thousand and one reflections of a sleepless night--the thousand andone alternations of hope, and doubt, and fear--the theoretic tentationof a hundred projects--all passed before my waking spirit. Yet whenmorning came, and the yellow sunlight fell painfully on my eyes, I hadadvanced no farther in any plan of proceeding. All my hopes centredupon D'Hauteville--for I no longer dwelt upon the chances of the mail. 

To be assured upon this head, however, as soon as it had arrived, I oncemore sought the banking-house of Brown and Co. The negative answer tomy inquiry was no longer a disappointment. I had anticipated it. Whendid money ever arrive in time for a crisis? Slowly roll the goldencircles--slowly are they passed from hand to hand, and reluctantlyparted with. This supply was due by the ordinary course of the mail;yet those friends at home, into whose executive hands I had intrusted myaffairs, had made some cause of delay. 

Never trust your business affairs to a _friend_. Never trust to a dayfor receiving a letter of credit, if to a friend belongs the duty ofsending it. So swore I, as I parted from the banking-house of Brown andCo. 

It was twelve o'clock when I returned to the Rue Saint Louis. I did notre-enter the hotel--I walked direct to the _Rotundo_. 

My pen fails to paint the dark emotions of my soul, as I stepped underthe shadow of that spacious dome. I remember no fooling akin to what Iexperienced at that moment. 

I have stood under the vaulted roof of the grand cathedral, and felt thesolemnity of religious awe--I have passed through the gilded saloons ofa regal palace, that inspired me with pity and contempt--pity for theslaves who had sweated for that gilding, and contempt for the sycophantswho surrounded me--I have inspected the sombre cells of a prison withfeelings of pain--but remembered no scene that had so painfullyimpressed me as that which now presented itself before my eyes. 

Not sacred was that spot. On the contrary, I stood upon _desecrated_ground--desecrated by acts of the deepest infamy. This was the famed_slave-market of New Orleans_--the place where human bodies--I mightalmost say _human souls_--were bought and sold!

Many a forced and painful parting had these walls witnessed. Oft hadthe husband been here severed from his wife--the mother from her child. Oft had the bitter tear-bedewed that marble pavement--oft had thatvaulted dome echoed back the sigh--nay more--the cry of the anguishedheart!

I repeat it--my soul was filled with dark emotions as I entered withinthe precincts of that spacious hall. And no wonder--with such thoughtsin my heart, and such a scene before my eyes, as I then looked upon. 

You will expect a description of that scene. I must disappoint you. Icannot give one. Had I been there as an ordinary spectator--a reportercool and unmoved by what was passing--I might have noted the details, and set them before you. But the case was far otherwise. One thoughtalone was in my mind--my eyes sought for one sole object--and thatprevented me from observing the varied features of the spectacle. 

A few things I do remember. I remember that the Rotundo, as its nameimports, was a circular hall, of large extent, with a flagged floor, anarched coiling, and white walls. These were without windows, for thehall was lighted from above. On one side, near the wall, stood a deskor rostrum upon an elevated dais, and by the side of this a large blockof cut stone of the form of a parallelopipedon. The use of these twoobjects I divined. 

A stone "kerb, " or banquette, ran around one portion of the wall. Thepurpose of this was equally apparent. 

The hall when I entered was half filled with people. They appeared tobe of all ages and sorts. They stood conversing in groups, just as mendo when assembled for any business, ceremony, or amusement, and waitingfor the affair to begin. It was plain, however, from the demeanour ofthese people, that what they waited for did not impress them with anyfeelings of solemnity. On the contrary a merry-meeting might have beenanticipated, judging from the rough jests and coarse peals of laughterthat from time to time rang through the hall. 

There was one group, however, which gave out no such signs or sounds. Seated along the stone banquette, and standing beside it, squatted downupon the floor, or leaning against the wall in any and every attitude, were the individuals of this group. Their black and brown skins, thewoolly covering of their skulls, their rough red "brogans, " their coarsegarments of cheap cottonade, of jeans, of "nigger cloth" died cinnamoncolour by the juice of the catalpa-tree, --these characteristics markedthem as distinct from all the other groups in the hall--a distinct raceof beings. 

But even without the distinctions of dress or complexion--even withoutthe thick lips or high cheekbones and woolly hair, it was easy to tellthat those who sat upon the banquette were under different circumstancesfrom these who strutted over the floor. While these talked loudly andlaughed gaily, those were silent and sad. These moved about with theair of the conqueror--those were motionless with the passive look anddowncast mien of the captive. These were _masters_--those were_slaves_! They were the slaves of the plantation Besancon. 

All were silent, or spoke only in whispers. Most of them seemed ill atease. Mothers sat holding their "piccaninnies" in their sable embrace, murmuring expressions of endearment, or endeavouring to hush them torest. Here and there big tears rolled over their swarthy cheeks, as thematernal heart rose and fell with swelling emotions. Fathers looked onwith drier eyes, but with the stern helpless gaze of despair, whichbespoke the consciousness, that they had no power to avert their fate--no power to undo whatever might be decreed by the pitiless wretchesaround them. 

Not all of them wore this expression. Several of the younger slaves, both boys and girls, were gaily-dressed in stuffs of brilliant colours, with flounces, frills, and ribbons. Most of these appeared indifferentto their future. Some even seemed happy--laughing and chatting gaily toeach other, or occasionally exchanging a light word with one of the"white folks. " A change of masters could not be such a terrible idea, after the usage they had lately had. Some of them rather anticipatedsuch an event with hopeful pleasure. These were the dandy young men, and the yellow belles of the plantation. They would, perhaps, beallowed to remain in that great city, of which they had so often heard--perhaps a brighter future was before them. Dark must it be to be darkerthan their proximate past. 

I glanced over the different groups, but my eyes rested not long uponthem. A glance was enough to satisfy me that _she_ was not there. There was no danger of mistaking any one of those forms or faces forthat of Aurore. She was not there, Thank Heaven! I was spared thehumiliation of seeing her in such a crowd! She was, no doubt, near athand and would be brought in when her turn came. 

I could ill brook the thought of seeing her exposed to the rude andinsulting glances--perhaps insulting speeches--of which she might be theobject. And yet that ordeal was in store for me. 

I did not discover myself to the slaves. I knew their impulsivenatures, and that a scene would be the result. I should be therecipient of their salutations and entreaties, uttered loud enough todraw the attention of all upon me. 

To avoid this, I took my station behind one of the groups of white menthat screened me from their notice, and kept my eyes fixed upon theentrance, watching for D'Hauteville. In him now lay my last and onlyhope. 

I could not help noting the individuals who passed out and in. Ofcourse they were all of my own sex, but of every variety. There was theregular "negro-trader, " a tall lathy fellow, with harsh horse-dealerfeatures, careless dress, loose coat, slouching broad-brimmed hat, coarse boots, and painted quirt of raw hide, --the "cowskin, "--fit emblemof his calling. 

In strong contrast to him was the elegantly-attired Creole, in coat ofclaret or blue, full-dress, with gold buttons, plated pantaloons, gaiter"bootees, " laced shirt, and diamond studs. 

An older variety of the same might be seen in trousers of buff, nankeenjacket of the same material, and hat of Manilla or Panama set over hisshort-cropped snow-white hair. 

The American merchant from Poydras or Tehoupitoulas Street, from Camp, New Levee, or Saint Charles, in dress-coat of black cloth, vest of blacksatin, shining like glaze--trousers of like material with the coat--boots of calf-skin, and gloveless hands. 

The dandy clerk of steamboat or store, in white grass frock, snowyducks, and beaver hat, long furred and of light yellowish hue. There, too, the snug smooth banker--the consequential attorney, here no longersombre and professional, but gaily caparisoned--the captain of theriver-boat, with no naval look--the rich planter of the coast--theproprietor of the cotton press or "pickery"--with a sprinkling ofnondescripts made up the crowd that had now assembled in the Rotundo. 

As I stood noting these various forms and costumes, a large heavy-builtman, with florid face, and dressed in a green "shad-bellied" coat, passed through the entrance. In one hand he carried a bundle of papers, and in the other a small mallet with ivory head--that at once proclaimedhis calling. 

His entrance produced a buzz, and set the various groups in motion. Icould hear the phrases, "Here he comes!" "Yon's him!" "Here comes themajor!"

This was not needed to proclaim to all present, who was the individualin the green "shad-belly. " The beautiful dome of Saint Charles itselfwas not better known to the citizens of New Orleans than was Major B--, the celebrated auctioneer. 

In another minute, the bright bland face of the major appeared above therostrum. A few smart raps of his hammer commanded silence, and the salebegan. 

Scipio was ordered first upon the block. The crowd of intended bidderspressed around him, poked their fingers between his ribs, felt his limbsas if he had been a fat ox, opened his mouth and examined his teeth asif he had been a horse, and then bid for him just like he had been oneor the other. 

Under other circumstances I could have felt compassion for the poorfellow; but my heart was too full--there was no room in it for Scipio;and I averted my face from the disgusting spectacle. 

CHAPTER SIXTY. 

THE SLAVE-MART. 

I once more fixed my eyes upon the entrance, scrutinising every formthat passed in. As yet no appearance of D'Hauteville! Surely he wouldsoon arrive. He said at twelve o'clock. It was now one, and still hehad not come. 

No doubt he would come, and in proper time. After all, I need not be soanxious as to the time. Her name was last upon the list. It would be along time. 

I had full reliance upon my new friend--almost unknown, but not untried. His conduct on the previous night had inspired me with perfectconfidence. He would not disappoint me. His being thus late did notshake my faith in him. There was some difficulty about his obtainingthe money, for it was _money_ I expected him to bring. He had hinted asmuch. No doubt it was that that was detaining him; but he would be intime. He knew that her name was at the bottom of the list--the lastlot--Lot 65!

Notwithstanding my confidence in D'Hauteville I was ill-at-ease. It wasvery natural I should be so, and requires no explanation. I kept mygaze upon the door, hoping _every_ moment to see him enter. 

Behind me I heard the voice of the auctioneer, in constant andmonotonous repetition, interrupted at intervals by the smart rap of hisivory mallet. I knew that the sale was going on; and, by the frequentstrokes of the hammer, I could tell that it was rapidly progressing. Although but some half-dozen of the slaves had yet been disposed of, Icould not help fancying that they were galloping down the list, and that_her_ turn would soon come--too soon. With the fancy my heart beatquicker and wilder. Surely D'Hauteville will not disappoint me!

A group stood near me, talking gaily. They were all young men, andfashionably dressed, --the scions I could tell of the Creole noblesse. They conversed in a tone sufficiently loud for me to overhear them. Perhaps I should not have listened to what they were saying, had not oneof them mentioned a particular name that fell harshly upon my ear. Thename was _Marigny_. I had an unpleasant recollection associated withthis name. It was a Marigny of whom Scipio had spoken to me--a Marignywho had proposed to _purchase Aurore_. Of course I remembered the name. 

"Marigny!" I listened. 

"So, Marigny, you really intend to bid for her?" asked one. 

"_Qui_, " replied a young sprig, stylishly and somewhat foppishlydressed. "_Oui--oui--oui_, " he continued with a languid drawl, as hedrew tighter his lavender gloves, and twirled his tiny cane. "I dointend--_ma foi_!--yes. "

"How high will you go?"

"Oh--ah! _une petite somme, mon cher ami_. "

"A _little sum_ will not do, Marigny, " said the first speaker. "I knowhalf-a-dozen myself who intend bidding for her--rich dogs all of them. "

"Who?" inquired Marigny, suddenly awaking from his languid indifference, "Who, may I inquire?"

"Who? Well there's Gardette the dentist, who's half crazed about her;there's the old Marquis; there's planter Tillareau and Lebon, ofLafourche; and young Moreau, the wine-merchant of the Rue Dauphin; andwho knows but half-a-dozen of those rich Yankee cotton-growers may wanther for a _housekeeper_! Ha! ha! ha!"

"I can name another, " suggested a third speaker. 

"Name!" demanded several; "yourself, perhaps, Le Ber; you want asempstress for your shirt-buttons. "

"No, not myself, " replied the speaker; "I don't buy _coturiers_ at thatprice--_deux mille dollares_, at the least, my friends. _Pardieu_! no. I find my sempstresses at a cheaper rate in the Faubourg Treme. "

"Who, then? Name him!"

"Without hesitation I do, --the old wizen-face Gayarre. "

"Gayarre the avocat?"

"Monsieur Dominique Gayarre!"

"Improbable, " rejoined one. "Monsieur Gayarre is a man of steadyhabits--a moralist--a miser. "

"Ha! ha!" laughed Le Ber; "it's plain, Messieurs, you don't understandthe character of Monsieur Gayarre. Perhaps I know him better. Miserthough he be, in a general sense, there's one class with whom he'sgenerous enough. _Il a une douzaine des maitresses_! Besides, you mustremember that Monsieur Dominique is a bachelor. He wants a goodhousekeeper--a _femme-de-chambre_. Come, friends, I have heardsomething--_un petit chose_. I'll lay a wager the miser outbids _every_one of you, --even rich generous Marigny here!"

Marigny stood biting his lips. His was but a feeling of annoyance orchagrin--mine was utter agony. I had no longer a doubt as to who wasthe subject of the conversation. 

"It was at the suit of Gayarre the bankruptcy was declared, was it not?"asked one. 

"'Tis so said. "

"Why, he was considered the great friend of the family--the associate ofold Besancon?"

"Yes, the _lawyer-friend_ of the family--Ha! ha!" significantly rejoinedanother. 

"Poor Eugenie! she'll be no longer the belle. She'll now be lessdifficult to please in her choice of a husband. "

"That's some consolation for you, Le Ber. Ha! ha!"

"Oh!" interposed another, "Le Ber had no chance lately. There's a youngEnglishman the favourite now--the same who swam ashore with her at theblowing-up of the Belle steamer. So I have heard, at least. Is it so, Le Ber?"

"You had better inquire of Mademoiselle Besancon, " replied the latter, in a peevish tone, at which the others laughed, "I would, " replied thequestioner, "but I know not where to find her. Where is she? She's notat her plantation. I was up there, and she had left two days before. She's not with the aunt here. Where is she, Monsieur?"

I listened for the answer to this question with a degree of interest. I, too, was ignorant of the whereabouts of Eugenie, and had sought forher that day, but in vain. It was said she had come to the city, but noone could tell me anything of her. And I now remembered what she hadsaid in her letter of "_Sacre Coeur_. " Perhaps, thought I, she hasreally gone to the convent. Poor Eugenie!

"Ay, where is she, Monsieur?" asked another of the party. 

"Very strange!" said several at once. "Where can she be? Le Ber, youmust know. "

"I know nothing of the movements of Mademoiselle Besancon, " answered theyoung man, with an air of chagrin and surprise, too, as if he was reallyignorant upon the subject, as well as vexed by the remarks which hiscompanions were making. 

"There's something mysterious in all this, " continued one of the number. "I should be astonished at it, if it were any one else than EugenieBesancon. "

It is needless to say that this conversation interested me. Every wordof it fell like a spark of fire upon my heart; and I could havestrangled these fellows, one and all of them, as they stood. Littleknew they that the "young Englishman" was near, listening to them, andas little the dire effect their words were producing. 

It was not what they said of Eugenie that gave me pain. It was theirfree speech about Aurore. I have not repeated their ribald talk inrelation to her--their jesting innuendoes, their base hypotheses, andcoldly brutal sneers whenever her chastity was named. 

One in particular, a certain Monsieur Sevigne, was more _bizarre_ thanany of his companions; and once or twice I was upon the point of turningupon him. It cost me an effort to restrain myself, but that effort wassuccessful, and I stood unmoved. Perhaps I should not have been able toendure it much longer, but for the interposition of an event, which atonce drove these gossips and their idle talk out of my mind. That eventwas _the entrance of Aurore_!

They had again commenced speaking of her--of her chastity--of her rarecharms. They were dismissing the probabilities as to who would becomepossessed of her, and the _certainty_ that she would be the _maitresse_of whoever did; they were waxing warmer in their eulogium of her beauty, and beginning to lay wagers on the result of the sale, when all at oncethe clack of their conversation ceased, and two or three cried out--

"_Voila! voila! elle vient_!"

I turned mechanically at the words. Aurore was in the entrance. 

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE. 

BIDDING FOR MY BETROTHED. 

Yes, Aurore appeared in the doorway of that infernal hall, and stoodtimidly pausing upon its threshold. 

She was not alone. A mulatto girl was by her side--like herself aslave--like herself brought there _to be sold_!

A third individual was of the party, or rather with it; for he did notwalk by the side of the girls, but in front, evidently conducting themto the place of sale. This individual was no other than Larkin, thebrutal overseer. 

"Come along!" said he, roughly, at the same time beckoning to Aurore andher companion: "this way, gals--foller me!"

They obeyed his rude signal, and, passing in, followed him across thehall towards the rostrum. 

I stood with slouched hat and averted face. Aurore saw me not. 

As soon as they were fairly past, and their backs towards me, my eyesfollowed them. Oh, beautiful Aurore!--beautiful as ever!

I was not single in my admiration. The appearance of the Quadrooncreated a sensation. The din ceased as if by a signal; every voicebecame hushed, and every eye was bent upon her as she moved across thefloor. Men hurried forward from distant parts of the hall to get anearer glance; others made way for her, stepping politely back as if shehad been a queen. Men did this who would have scorned to offerpoliteness to another of her race--to the "yellow girl" for instance, who walked by her side! Oh, the power of beauty! Never was it moremarkedly shown than in the _entree_ of that poor slave. 

I heard the whispers, I observed the glances of admiration, of passion. I marked the longing eyes that followed her, noting her splendid formand its undulating outlines as she moved forward. 

All this gave me pain. It was a feeling worse than mere jealousy Iexperienced. It was jealousy embittered by the very brutality of myrivals. 

Aurore was simply attired. There was no affectation of the fine lady--none of the ribbons and flounces that bedecked the dresses of herdarker-skinned companion. Such would have ill assorted with the noblemelancholy that appeared upon her beautiful countenance. None of allthis. 

A robe of light-coloured muslin, tastefully made, with long skirt andtight sleeves--as was the fashion of the time--a fashion that displayedthe pleasing rotundity of her figure. Her head-dress was that worn byall quadroons--the "toque" of the Madras kerchief, which sat upon herbrow like a coronet, its green, crimson, and yellow checks contrastingfinely with the raven blackness of her hair. She wore no ornamentsexcepting the broad gold rings that glittered against the rich glow ofher cheeks; and upon her finger one other circlet of gold--the token ofher betrothal. I knew it well. 

I buried myself in the crowd, slouching my hat on that side towards therostrum. I desired she should not see me, while I could not help gazingupon her. I had taken my stand in such a situation, that I could stillcommand a view of the entrance. More than ever was I anxious about thecoming of D'Hauteville. 

Aurore had been placed near the foot of the rostrum. I could just seethe edge of her turban over the shoulders of the crowd. By elevatingmyself on my toes, I could observe her face, which by chance was turnedtowards me. Oh! how my heart heaved as I struggled to read itsexpression--as I endeavoured to divine the subject of her thoughts!

She looked sad and anxious. That was natural enough. But I looked foranother expression--that unquiet anxiety produced by the alternation ofhope and fear. 

Her eye wandered over the crowd. She scanned the sea of faces thatsurrounded her. _She was searching for some one. Was it for me_?

I held down my face as her glance passed over the spot. I dared notmeet her gaze. I feared that I could not restrain myself fromaddressing her. Sweet Aurore!

I again looked up. Her eye was still wandering in fruitless search--oh!surely it is for me!

Again I cowered behind the crowd, and her glance was carried onward. 

I raised myself once more. I saw the shadow darkening upon her face. Her eye filled with a deeper expression--it was the look of despair. 

"Courage! courage!" I whispered to myself. "Look again, lovely Aurore!This time I shall meet you. I shall speak to you from mine eyes--Ishall give back glance for glance--"

"She sees--she recognises me! That start--the flash of joy in hereyes--the smile curling upon her lips! Her glance wanders no more--hergaze is fixed--proud heart! It _was_ for me!"

Yes, our eyes met at length--met, melting and swimming with love. Minehad escaped from my control. For some moments I could not turn themaside, but surrendered them to the impulse of my passion. It wasmutual. I doubted it not. I felt as though the ray of love-light waspassing between us. I had almost forgotten where I stood!

A murmur from the crowd, and a movement, restored me to my senses. Herstedfast gaze had been noticed, and by many--skilled to interpret suchglances--had been understood. These, in turning round to see who wasthe object of that glance, had caused the movement. I had observed itin time, and turned my face in another direction. 

I watched the entrance for D'Hauteville. Why had he not arrived? Myanxiety increased with the minutes. 

True, it would still be an hour--perhaps two--before her time shouldcome. --Ha!--what?

There was silence for a moment--something of interest was going on. Ilooked towards the rostrum for an explanation. A dark man had climbedupon one of the steps, and was whispering to the auctioneer. 

He remained but a moment. He appeared to have asked some favour, whichwas at once conceded him, and he stepped back to his place among thecrowd. 

A minute or two intervened, and then, to my horror and astonishment, Isaw the overseer take Aurore by the arm, and raise her upon the block!The intention was plain. _She was to be sold next_!

In the moments that followed, I cannot remember exactly how I acted. Iran wildly for the entrance. I looked out into the street. Up and downI glanced with anxious eyes. No D'Hauteville!

I rushed back into the hall--again through the outer circles of thecrowd, in the direction of the rostrum. 

The bidding had begun. I had not heard the preliminaries, but as Ire-entered there fell upon my ears the terrible words--

"_A thousand dollars for the Quadroon_. --_A thousand dollars bid_!"

"O Heaven! D'Hauteville has deceived me. She is lost!--lost!"

In my desperation I was about to interrupt the sale. I was about toproclaim aloud its unfairness, in the fact that the Quadroon had been_taken out of the order advertised_! Even on this poor plea I rested ahope. 

It was the straw to the drowning man, but I was determined to grasp it. 

I had opened my lips to call out, when some one pulling me by the sleevecaused me to turn round. It was D'Hauteville! Thank Heaven, it wasD'Hauteville!

I could scarce restrain myself from shouting with joy. His look told methat he was the bearer of bright gold. 

"In time, and none to spare, " whispered he, thrusting a pocket-bookbetween my fingers; "there is three thousand dollars--that will surelybe enough; 'tis all I have been able to procure. I cannot stay here--there are those I do not wish to see. I shall meet you after the saleis over. Adieu!"

I scarce thanked him. I saw not his parting. My eyes were elsewhere. 

"Fifteen hundred dollars bid for the Quadroon!--good housekeeper--sempstress--fifteen hundred dollars!"

"_Two thousand_!" I called out, my voice husky with emotion. Thesudden leap over such a large sum drew the attention of the crowd uponme. Looks, smiles, and innuendoes were freely exchanged at my expense. 

I saw, or rather heeded them not. I saw Aurore, only Aurore, standingupon the dais like a statue upon its pedestal--the type of sadness andbeauty. The sooner I could take her thence, the happier for me; andwith that object in view I had made my "bid. "

"Two thousand dollars bid--two thousand--twenty-one hundred dollars--twothousand, one, two--twenty-two hundred dollars bid--twenty-two--"

"Twenty-five hundred dollars!" I again cried out, in as firm a voice asI could command. 

"Twenty-five hundred dollars, " repeated the auctioneer, in hismonotonous drawl; "twenty-five--six--you, sir? thank you! twenty-sixhundred dollars for the Quadroon--twenty-six hundred!"

"Oh God! they will go above three thousand; if they do--"

"Twenty-seven hundred dollars!" bid the fop Marigny. 

"Twenty-eight hundred!" from the old Marquis. 

"Twenty-eight hundred and fifty!" assented the young merchant, Moreau. 

"Nine!" nodded the tall dark man who had whispered to the auctioneer. 

Twenty-nine hundred dollars bid--two thousand nine hundred. 

"Three thousand!" I gasped out in despair. 

It was my last bid. I could go no farther. 

I waited for the result, as the condemned waits for the falling of thetrap or the descent of the axe. My heart could not have endured verylong that terrible suspense. But I had not long to endure it. 

"_Three thousand one hundred dollars_!--three thousand one hundred bid--thirty-one hundred dollars--"

I cast one look upon Aurore. It was a look of hopeless despair; andturning away, I staggered mechanically across the hall. 

Before I had reached the entrance I could hear the voice of theauctioneer, in the same prolonged drawl, calling out, "Three thousandfive hundred bid for the Quadroon girl?"

I halted and listened. The sale was coming to its close. 

"Three thousand five hundred--going at three thousand five hundred--going--going--"

The sharp stroke of the hammer fell upon my ear. It drowned the finalword "gone!" but my heart pronounced that word in the emphasis of itsagony. 

There was a noisy scene of confusion, loud words and high excitementamong the crowd of disappointed bidders. Who was the fortunate one?

I leant over to ascertain. The tall dark man was in conversation withthe auctioneer. Aurore stood beside him. I now remembered having seenthe man on the boat. He was the agent of whom D'Hauteville had spoken. The Creole had guessed aright, and so, too, had Le Ber. 

_Gayarre had outbid them all_!

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO. 

THE HACKNEY-CARRIAGE. 

For a while I lingered in the hall, irresolute and almost withoutpurpose. She whom I loved, and who loved me in return, was wrested fromme by an infamous law, ruthlessly torn from me. She would be borne awaybefore my eyes, and I might, perhaps, never behold her again. Probableenough was this thought--I might never behold her again! Lost to me, more hopelessly lost, than if she had become the _bride_ of another. Far more hopelessly lost. Then, at least, she would have been free tothink, to act, to go abroad, to --. Then I might have hoped to meet heragain, to see her, to gaze upon her, even if only at a distance, toworship her in the secret silence of my heart, to console myself withthe belief that she still loved me. Yes; the bride, the wife ofanother! Even that I could have borne with calmness. But now, not thebride of another, but the _slave_, the forced, unwilling _leman_, andthat other--. Oh! how my heart writhed under its horrible imaginings!

What next? How was I to act? Resign myself to the situation? Make nofurther effort to recover, to save her?

No! It had not come to that. Discouraging as the prospect was, a rayof hope was visible; one ray yet illumed the dark future, sustaining andbracing my mind for further action. 

The plan was still undefined; but the purpose had been formed, and thatpurpose was to free Aurore, to make her mine _at every hazard_! Ithought no longer of buying her. I knew that Gayarre had become herowner. I felt satisfied that to purchase her was no longer possible. He who had paid such an enormous sum would not be likely to part withher at any price. My whole fortune would not suffice. I gave not athought to it. I felt certain it would be impossible. 

Far different was the resolve that was already forming itself in mymind, and cheering me with new hopes. Forming itself, do I say? It hadalready taken a definite shape, even before the echoes of the salesman'svoice had died upon my ears! With the clink of his hammer my mind wasmade up. The purpose was formed; it was only the _plan_ that remainedindefinite. 

I had resolved to outrage the laws--to become thief or robber, whicheverit might please circumstances to make me. I had resolved to _steal mybetrothed_!

Disgrace there might be--danger I knew there was, not only to myliberty, but my life. I cared but little about the disgrace; I reckednot of the danger. My purpose was fixed--my determination taken. 

Brief had been the mental process that conducted me to thisdetermination--the more brief that the thought had passed through mymind before--the more brief that I believed there was positively noother means I could adopt. It was the only course of action left me--either that, or yield up all that I loved without a struggle--and, passion-led as I was, I was not going to yield. Certain disgrace, --evendeath itself, appeared more welcome than this alternative. 

I had formed not yet the shadow of a plan. That, must be thought ofafterwards; but even at that moment was action required. My poor heartwas on the rack; I could not bear the thought that a single night shouldpass and she under the same roof with that hideous man!

Wherever she should pass the night, I was determined that I should notbe far-distant from her. Walls might separate us, but she should know Iwas near. Just that much of a plan _had_ I thought of. 

Stepping to a retired spot, I took out my note-book, and wrote upon oneof its leaves:

"_Ce soir viendrai_!--Edouard. "

I had no time to be more particular, for I feared every moment she wouldbe hurried out of my sight. I tore out the leaf; and, hastily foldingit, returned to the entrance of the Rotundo. 

Just as I got back to the door a hackney-carriage drove up, and haltedin front. I conjectured its use, and lost no time in providing anotherfrom a stand close by. This done, I returned within the hall. I wasyet in time. As I entered, I saw Aurore being led away from therostrum. 

I pressed into the crowd, and stood in such a position that she wouldhave to pass near me. And she did so, our hands met, and the noteparted from my fingers. There was no time for a further recognition--not even a love-pressure--for the moment after she was hurried onthrough the crowd, and the carriage-door closed after her. 

The mulatto girl accompanied her, and another of the female slaves. Allwere put into the carriage. The negro-dealer climbed to the boxalongside the coachman, and the vehicle rattled off over the stonypavement. 

A word to my driver was enough, who, giving the whip to his horses, followed at like speed. 

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE. 

TO BRINGIERS. 

Coachmen of New Orleans possess their full share of _intelligence_; andthe ring of a piece of silver, extra of their fare, is a music wellunderstood by them. They are the witnesses of many a romanticadventure--the necessary confidants of many a love-secret. A hundredyards in front rolled the carriage that had taken Aurore; now turninground corners, now passing among drays laden with huge cotton-bales orhogsheads of sugar--but my driver had fixed his knowing eye upon it, andI had no need to be uneasy. 

It passed up the Rue Chartres but a short distance, and then turned intoone of the short streets that ran from this at right angles towards theLevee. I fancied for a moment, it was making for the steamboat wharves;but on reaching the corner, I saw that it had stopped about half waydown the street. My driver, according to the instructions I had givenhim, pulled up at the corner, and awaited my further orders. Thecarriage I had followed was now standing in front of a house; and justas I rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of several figures crossingthe banquette and entering the door. No doubt, all that had ridden inthe carriage--Aurore with the rest--had gone inside the house. 

Presently a man came out, and handing his fare to the hackney-coachman, turned and went back into the house. The latter, gathering up hisreins, gave the whip to his horses, and, wheeling round, came back bythe Rue Chartres. As he passed me, I glanced through the open windowsof his vehicle. It was empty. She had gone into the house, then. 

I had no longer any doubt as to where she had been taken. I read on thecorner, "Rue Bienville. " The house where the carriage had stopped wasthe town residence of Monsieur Dominique Gayarre. 

I remained for some minutes in the cab, considering what I had best do. Was this to be her future home? or was she only brought heretemporarily, to be afterwards taken up to the plantation?

Some thought, or instinct perhaps, whispered me that she was not toremain in the Rue Bienville; but would be carried to the gloomy oldmansion at Bringiers. I cannot tell why I thought so. Perhaps it wasbecause I wished it so. 

I saw the necessity of watching the house--so that she might not betaken away without my knowing it. Wherever she went I was determined tofollow. 

Fortunately I was prepared for any journey. The three thousand dollarslent me by D'Hauteville remained intact. With that I could travel tothe ends of the earth. 

I wished that the young Creole had been with me. I wanted his counsel--his company. How should I find him? he had not said where we shouldmeet--only that he would join me when the sale should be over. I sawnothing of him on leaving the Rotundo. Perhaps he meant to meet methere or at my hotel; but how was I to get back to either of theseplaces without leaving my post?

I was perplexed as to how I should communicate with D'Hauteville. Itoccurred to me that the hackney-coachman--I had not yet dismissed him--might remain and watch the house, while I went in search of the Creole. I had only to pay the Jehu; he would obey me, of course, and rightwillingly. 

I was about arranging with the man, and had already given him someinstructions, when I heard wheels rumbling along the street; and asomewhat old-fashioned coach, drawn by a pair of mules, turned into theRue Bienville. A negro driver was upon the box. 

There was nothing odd in all this. Such a carriage and such a coachmanwere to be seen every hour in New Orleans, and drawn by mules as oftenas horses. But this pair of mules, and the negro who drove them, Irecognised. 

Yes! I recognised the equipage. I had often met it upon the Levee Roadnear Bringiers. It was the carriage of Monsieur Dominique!

I was further assured upon this point by seeing the vehicle draw up infront of the avocat's house. 

I at once gave up my design of going back for D'Hauteville. Climbingback into the hack, I ensconced myself in such a position, that I couldcommand a view of what passed in the Rue Bienville. 

Some one was evidently about to become the occupant of the carriage. The door of the house stood open, and a servant was speaking to thecoachman. I could tell by the actions of the latter, that he expectedsoon to drive off. 

The servant now appeared outside with several parcels, which he placedupon the coach; then a man came out--the negro-trader--who mounted thebox. Another man shot across the banquette, but in such a hurried gaitthat I could not recognise him. I guessed, however, who _he_ was. Twoothers now came from the house--a mulatto woman and a young girl. Inspite of the cloak in which she was enveloped I recognised Aurore. Themulatto woman conducted the girl to the carriage, and then stepped inafter. At this moment a man on horseback appeared in the street, andriding up, halted by the carriage. After speaking to some one inside, he again put his horse in motion and rode off. This horseman was Larkinthe overseer. 

The clash of the closing door was immediately followed by the crack ofthe coachman's whip; and the mules, trotting off down the street, turnedto the right, and headed up the Levee. 

My driver, who had already been instructed, gave the whip to his hack, and followed, keeping a short distance in the rear. 

It was not till we had traversed the long street of Tehoupitoulas, through the Faubourg Marigny, and were some distance upon the road tothe suburban village of Lafayette, that I thought of where I was going. My sole idea had been to keep in sight the carriage of Gayarre. 

I now bethought me for what purpose I was driving after him. Did Iintend to follow him to his house, some thirty miles distant, in ahackney-coach?

Even had I been so determined, it was questionable whether the driver ofthe vehicle could have been tempted to humour my caprice, or whether hiswretched hack could have accomplished such a feat. 

For what purpose, then, was I galloping after? To overtake these menupon the road, and deliver Aurore from their keeping? No, there werethree of them--well armed, no doubt--and I alone. 

But it was not until I had gone several miles that I began to reflect onthe absurdity of my conduct. I then ordered my coachman to pull up. 

I remained seated; and from the window of the hack gazed after thecarriage, until it was hidden by a turn in the road. 

"After all, " I muttered to myself, "I have done right in following. Iam now sure of their destination. Back to the Hotel Saint Luis!"

The last phrase was a command to my coachman, who turning his horsedrove back. 

As I had promised to pay for speed, it was not long before the wheels ofmy hackney rattled over the pave of the Rue Saint Luis. 

Having dismissed the carriage, I entered the hotel. To my joy I foundD'Hauteville awaiting my return, and in a few minutes I had communicatedto him my determination to carry off Aurore. 

Bare friendship his! he approved of my resolve. Rare devotion! heproposed to take part in my enterprise, I warned him of its perils--tono purpose. With an enthusiasm I could not account for, and thatgreatly astonished me at the time, he still insisted upon sharing them. 

Perhaps I might more earnestly have admonished him against such apurpose, but I felt how much I stood in need of him. 

I could not explain the strange feeling of confidence, with which thepresence of this gentle but heroic youth had inspired me. Thereluctance with which I accepted his offer was only apparent--it was notfelt. My heart was struggling against my will. I was but too glad whenhe stated his determination to accompany me. 

There was no boat going up that night; but we were not without the meansto travel. A pair of horses were hired--the best that money couldprocure--and before sun-down we had cleared the suburbs of the city, andwere riding along the road that conducts to the village of Bringiers. 

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR. 

TWO VILLAINS. 

We travelled rapidly. There were no hills to impede our progress. Ourroute lay along the Levee Road, which leads from New Orleans by the bankof the river, passing plantations and settlements at every few hundredyards' distance. The path was as level as a race-course, and the hooffell gently upon the soft dusty surface, enabling us to ride with ease. The horses we bestrode were _mustangs_ from the prairies of Texas, trained to that gait, the "pace" peculiar to the saddle-bags of theSouth-western States. Excellent "pacers" both were; and, before thenight came down, we had made more than half of our journey. 

Up to this time we had exchanged only a few words. I was busy with mythoughts--busy planning my enterprise. My young companion appearedequally occupied with his. 

The darkening down of the night brought us closer together; and I nowunfolded to D'Hauteville the plan which I had proposed to myself. 

There was not much of plan about it. My intention was simply this: Toproceed at once to the plantation of Gayarre--stealthily to approach thehouse--to communicate with Aurore through some of the slaves of theplantation; failing in this, to find out, if possible, in what part ofthe house she would pass the night--to enter her room after all had goneto sleep--propose to her to fly with me--and then make our escape thebest way we could. 

Once clear of the house, I had scarce thought of a plan of action. Thatseemed easy enough. Our horses would carry us back to the city. Therewe might remain concealed, until some friendly ship should bear us fromthe country. 

This was all the plan I had conceived, and, having communicated it toD'Hauteville, I awaited his response. 

After some moments' silence, he replied, signifying his approval of it. Like me, he could think of no other course to be followed. Aurore mustbe carried away at all hazards. 

We now conversed about the details. We debated every chance of failureand success. 

Our main difficulty, both agreed, would be in communicating with Aurore. Could we do so? Surely she would not be locked in? Surely Gayarrewould not be suspicious enough to have her guarded and watched? He wasnow the full owner of this coveted treasure--no one could legallydeprive him of his slave--no one could carry her away without the riskof a fearful punishment; and although he no doubt suspected that someunderstanding existed between the quadroon and myself, I would neverdream of such a love as that which I felt--a love that would lead me torisk even life itself, as I now intended. 

No. Gayarre, judging from his own vile passion, might believe that I, like himself, had been "struck" with the girl's beauty, and that I waswilling to pay a certain sum--three thousand dollars--to possess her. But the fact that I had bid no more--no doubt exactly reported to him byhis agent--was proof that my love had its limits, and there was an endof it. As a rival he would hear of me no more. No. Monsieur DominiqueGayarre would never suspect a passion like mine--would never dream ofsuch a purpose as the one to which that passion now impelled me. Anenterprise so romantic was not within the bounds of probability. Therefore--so reasoned D'Hauteville and I--it was not likely Aurorewould be either guarded or watched. 

But even though she might not be, how were we to communicate with her?That would be extremely difficult. 

I built my hopes on the little slip of paper--on the words "_Ce soirviendrai_. " Surely upon this night Aurore would _not sleep_. My hearttold me she would not, and the thought rendered me proud and sanguine. That very night should I make the attempt to carry her off. I could notbear the thought that she should pass even a single night under the roofof her tyrant. 

And the night promised to befriend us. The sun had scarcely gone down, when the sky became sullen, turning to the hue of lead. As soon as theshort twilight passed, the whole canopy had grown so dark, that we couldscarce distinguish the outline of the forest from the sky itself. Not astar could be seen. A thick pall of smoke-coloured clouds hid them fromthe view. Even the yellow surface of the river was scarce perceptiblefrom its bank, and the white dust of the road alone guided us. 

In the woods, or upon the darker ground of the plantation fields, tofind a path would have been impossible--so intense was the darkness thatenveloped us. 

We might have augured trouble from this--we might have feared losing ourway. But I was not afraid of any such result. I felt assured that thestar of love itself would guide me. 

The darkness would be in our favour. Under its friendly shadow we couldapproach the house, and act with safety; whereas had it been a moonlightnight, we should have been in great danger of being discovered. 

I read in the sudden change of sky no ill augury, but an omen ofsuccess. 

There were signs of an approaching storm. What to me would have beenkindly weather? Anything--a rain-storm--a tempest--a hurricane--anything but a fine night was what I desired. 

It was still early when we reached the plantation Besancon--not quitemidnight. We had lost no time on the road. Our object in hurryingforward was to arrive at the place before the household of Gayarreshould go to rest. Our hopes were that we might find some means ofcommunicating with Aurore--through the slaves. 

One of those I know. I had done him a slight favour during my residenceat Bringiers. I had gained his confidence--enough to render himaccessible to a bribe. He might be found, and might render us thedesired assistance. 

All was silent upon the plantation Besancon. The dwelling-houseappeared deserted. There were no lights to be seen. One glimmered inthe rear, in a window of the overseer's house. The negro quarter wasdark and silent. The buzz usual at that hour was not heard. They whosevoices used to echo through its little street were now far away. Thecabins were empty. The song, the jest, and the cheerful laugh, werehushed; and the 'coon-dog howling for his absent master, was the onlysound that broke the stillness of the place. 

We passed the gate, riding in silence, and watching the road in front ofus. We were observing the greatest caution as we advanced. We mightmeet those whom above all others we desired not to encounter--theoverseer, the agent, Gayarre himself. Even to have been seen by one ofGayarre's negroes might have resulted in the defeat of our plans. Sofearful was I of this, that but for the darkness of the night, I shouldhave left the road sooner, and tried a path through the woods which Iknew of. It was too dark to traverse this path without difficulty andloss of time. We therefore clung to the road, intending to leave itwhen we should arrive opposite the plantation of Gayarre. 

Between the two plantations a wagon-road for wood-hauling led to theforest. It was this road I intended to take. We should not be likelyto meet any one upon it; and it was our design to conceal our horsesamong the trees in the rear of the cane-fields. On such a night noteven the negro 'coon-hunter would have any business in the woods. 

Creeping along with caution, we had arrived near the point where thiswood-road _debouched_, when voices reached our ears. Some persons werecoming down the road. 

We reined, up and listened. There were men in conversation; and fromtheir voices each moment growing more distinct, we could tell that theywere approaching us. 

They were coming down the main road from the direction of the village. The hoof-stroke told us they were on horseback, and, consequently, thatthey were white men. 

A large cotton-wood tree stood on the waste ground on one side of theroad. The long flakes of Spanish moss hanging from its branches nearlytouched the ground. It offered the readiest place of concealment, andwe had just time to spur our horses behind its giant trunk, when thehorsemen came abreast of the tree. 

Dark as it was, we could see them in passing. Their forms--two of themthere were--were faintly outlined against the yellow surface of thewater. Had they been silent, we might have remained in ignorance as towho they were, but their voices betrayed them. They were Larkin and thetrader. 

"Good!" whispered D'Hauteville, as we recognised them; "they have leftGayarre's--they are on their way home to the plantation Besancon. "

The very same thought had occurred to myself. No doubt they werereturning to their homes--the overseer to the plantation Besancon, andthe trader to his own house--which I know to be farther down the coast. I now remembered having often seen this man in company with Gayarre. 

The thought had occurred to myself as D'Hauteville spoke, but how knew_he_? He must be well acquainted with the country, thought I. 

I had no time to reflect or ask him any question. The conversation ofthese two ruffians--for ruffians both were--occupied all my attention. They were evidently in high glee, laughing as they went, and jesting asthey talked. No doubt their vile work had been remunerative. 

"Wal, Bill, " said the trader, "it air the biggest price I ever giv for anigger. "

"Darn the old French fool! He's paid well for his whistle this time--heain't allers so open-fisted. Dog darned if he is!"

"Wal--she air dear; an she ain't when a man has the dollars to spare. She's as putty a piece o' goods as there air in all Louisiana. Iwouldn't mind myself--"

"Ha! ha! ha!" boisterously laughed the overseer. "I guess you can get achance if you've a mind to, " he added, in a significant tone. 

"Say, Bill!--tell me--be candid, old feller--have you ever--?"

"Wal, to tell the truth, I hain't; but I reckon I mout if I had pushedthe thing. I wan't long enough on the plantation. Beside, she's sostuck up with cussed pride an larnin', that she thinks herself as goodas white. I calclate old Foxey 'll bring down her notions a bit. Shewon't be long wi' him till she'll be glad to take a ramble in the woodswi' anybody that asks her. There'll be chance enough yet, I reckon. "

The trader muttered some reply to this prophetic speech; but both werenow so distant that their conversation was no longer audible. What Ihad heard, absurd as it was, caused me a feeling of pain, and, ifpossible, heightened my desire to save Aurore from the terrible fatethat awaited her. 

Giving the word to my companion, we rode out from behind the tree, and afew minutes after turned into the by-path that led to the woods. 

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE. 

THE PAWPAW THICKET. 

Our progress along this by-road was slow. There was no white dust uponthe path to guide us. We had to grope our way as well as we couldbetween the zigzag fences. Now and then our horses stumbled in the deepruts made by the wood-wagons, and it was with difficulty we could forcethem forward. 

My companion seemed to manage better than I, and whipped his horseonward as if he were more familiar with the path, or else more reckless!I wondered at this without making any remark. 

After half-an-hour's struggling we reached the angle of the rail-fence, where the enclosure ended and the woods began. Another hundred yardsbrought us under the shadow of the tall timber; where we reined up totake breath, and concert what was next to be done. 

I remembered that there was a pawpaw thicket near this place. 

"If we could find it, " I said to my companion, "and leave our horsesthere?"

"We may easily do that, " was the reply; "though 'tis scarce worth whilesearching for a thicket--the darkness will sufficiently conceal them. --Ha! not so--_Voila l'eclair_!"

As D'Hauteville spoke, a blue flash lit up the whole canopy of heaven. Even the gloomy aisles of the forest were illuminated, so that we coulddistinguish the trunks and branches of the trees to a long distancearound us. The light wavered for some seconds, like a lamp about beingextinguished; and then went suddenly out, leaving the darkness moreopaque than before. 

There was no noise accompanying this phenomenon--at least none producedby the lightning itself. It caused some noise, however, among the wildcreatures of the woods. It woke the white-headed haliaetus, perchedupon the head of the tall taxodium, and his maniac laugh sounded harshand shrill. It woke the grallatores of the swamp--the qua-bird, thecurlews, and the tall blue herons--who screamed in concert. The owl, already awake, hooted louder its solemn note; and from the deep profoundof the forest came the howl of the wolf, and the more thrilling cry ofthe cougar. 

All nature seemed startled by this sudden blaze of light that filled thefirmament. But the moment after all was darkness and silence as before. "The storm will soon be on?" I suggested. "No, " said my companion, "there will be no storm--you hear no thunder--when it is thus we shallhave no rain--a very black night, with lightning at intervals--nothingmore. Again!"

The exclamation was drawn forth by a second blaze of lightning, thatlike the first lit up the woods on all sides around us, and, as before, unaccompanied by thunder. Neither the slightest rumble nor clap washeard, but the wild creatures once more uttered their varied cries. 

"We must conceal the horses, then, " said my companion; "some stragglermight be abroad, and with this light they could be seen far off. Thepawpaw thicket is the very place. Let us seek it! It lies in thisdirection. "

D'Hauteville rode forward among the tree-trunks. I followedmechanically. I felt satisfied he know the ground better than I! Hemust have been here before, was my reflection. 

We had not gone many steps before the blue light blazed a third time;and we could see, directly in front of us, the smooth shining branchesand broad green leaves of the _Asiminas_, forming the underwood of theforest. 

When the lightning flashed again, we had entered the thicket. 

Dismounting in its midst, we hastily tied our bridles to the branches;and then, leaving our horses to themselves, we returned towards the openground. 

Ten minutes' walking enabled us to regain the zigzag railing that shutin the plantation of Gayarre. 

Directing ourselves along this, in ten minutes after we arrived oppositethe house--which by the electric blaze we could distinguish shiningamong the tall cotton-wood trees that grew around it. At this point weagain made a stop to reconnoitre the ground, and consider how we shouldproceed. 

A wide field stretched from the fence almost to the walls. A gardenenclosed by palings lay between the field and the house; and on one sidewe could perceive the roofs of numerous cabins denoting the negroquarter. At some distance in the same direction, stood the sugar-milland other outbuildings, and near these the house of Gayarre's overseer. 

This point was to be avoided. Even the negro quarter must be shunned, lest we might give alarm. The dogs would be our worst enemies. I knewthat Gayarre kept several. I had often seen them along the roads. Large fierce animals they were. How were they to be shunned? Theywould most likely be rambling about the outbuildings or the negrocabins; therefore, our safest way would be to approach from the oppositeside. 

If we should fail to discover the apartment of Aurore, then it would betime to make reconnaissance in the direction of the "quarter, " andendeavour to find the boy Caton. 

We saw lights in the house. Several windows--all upon theground-floor--were shining through the darkness. More than oneapartment therefore was occupied. 

This gave us hope. One of them might be occupied by Aurore. 

"And now, Monsieur!" said D'Hauteville, after we had discussed thevarious details, "suppose we fail? suppose some alarm be given, and webe detected before--?"

I turned, and looking my young companion full in the face, interruptedhim in what he was about to say. "D'Hauteville!" said I, "perhaps, Imay never be able to repay your generous friendship. It has alreadyexceeded all bounds--but _life_ you must not risk for me. That I cannotpermit. "

"And how risk life, Monsieur?"

"If I fail--if alarm be given--if I am opposed, _voila_--!"

I opened the breast of my coat, exposing to his view my pistols. 

"Yes!" I continued; "I am reckless enough. I shall use them ifnecessary. I shall take life if it stand in the way. I am resolved;but you must not risk an encounter. You must remain here--I shall go tothe house alone. "

"No--no!" he answered promptly; "I go with you. "

"I cannot permit it, Monsieur. It is better for you to remain here. You can stay by the fence until I return to you--until _we_ return, Ishould say, for I come not back without _her_. "

"Do not act rashly, Monsieur!"

"No, but I am determined. I am desperate. We must not go farther. "

"And why not? _I, too, have an interest in this affair_. "

"You?" I asked, surprised at the words as well as the tone in whichthey were spoken. "You an interest?"

"Of course, " coolly replied my companion. "I love adventure. Thatgives me an interest. You must permit me to accompany you--I must goalong with you!"

"As you will then, Monsieur D'Hauteville. Fear not. I shall act withprudence. Come on!"

I sprang over the fence, followed by my companion; and, without anotherword having passed between us, we struck across the field in thedirection of the house. 

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX. 

THE ELOPEMENT. 

It was a field of sugar-cane. The canes were of that species known as"ratoons"--suckers from old roots--and the thick bunches at their bases, as well as the tall columns, enabled us to pass among them unobserved. Even had it been day, we might have approached the house unseen. 

We soon reached the garden-paling. Here we stopped to reconnoitre theground. A short survey was sufficient. We saw the very place where wecould approach and conceal ourselves. 

The house had an antique weather-beaten look--not without somepretensions to grandeur. It was a wooden building, two stories inheight, with gable roofs, and large windows--all of which had Venetianshutters that opened to the outside. Both walls and window-shutters hadonce been painted, but the paint was old and rusty; and the colour ofthe Venetians, once green, could hardly be distinguished from the greywood-work of the walls. All round the house ran an open gallery orverandah, raised some three or four feet from the ground. Upon thisgallery the windows and doors opened, and a paling or guard-railencompassed the whole. Opposite the doors, a stairway of half-a-dozensteps led up; but at all other parts the space underneath was open infront, so that, by stooping a little, one might get under the floor ofthe gallery. 

By crawling close up in front of the verandah, and looking through therails, we should be able to command a full view of all the windows inthe house;--and in case of alarm, we could conceal ourselves in the darkcavity underneath. We should be safe there, unless scented by the dogs. 

Our plan was matured in whispers. It was not much of a plan. We wereto advance to the edge of the verandah, peep through the windows untilwe could discover the apartment of Aurore; then do our best tocommunicate with her, and get her out. Our success depended greatlyupon accident or good fortune. 

Before we could make a move forward, fortune seemed as though she wasgoing to favour us. In one of the windows, directly before our face, afigure appeared. A glance told us it was the Quadroon!

The window, as before stated, reached down to the floor of the verandah;and as the figure appeared behind the glass, we could see it from headto foot. The Madras kerchief on the head, the gracefully undulatingfigure, outlined upon the background of the lighted room, left no doubtupon our minds as to who it was. 

"'Tis Aurore!" whispered my companion. 

How could _he_ tell? Did he know her? All! I remembered--he had seenher that morning in the Rotundo. 

"It is she!" I replied, my beating heart scarce allowing me to makeutterance. 

The window was curtained, but she had raised the curtain in one hand, and was looking out. There was that in her attitude that betokenedearnestness. She appeared as if trying to penetrate the gloom. Even inthe distance I could perceive this, and my heart bounded with joy. Shehad understood my note. She was looking for me!

D'Hauteville thought so as well. Our prospects were brightening. Ifshe guessed our design, our task would be easier. 

She remained but a few moments by the window. She turned away and thecurtain dropped into its place; but before it had screened the view, thedark shadow of a man fell against the back wall of the room. Gayarre, no doubt!

I could hold back no longer; but climbing over the garden-fence, I creptforward, followed by D'Hauteville. 

In a few seconds both of us had gained the desired position--directly infront of the window, from which we were now separated only by thewood-work of the verandah. Standing half-bent our eyes were on a levelwith the floor of the room. The curtain had not fallen properly intoits place. A single pane of the glass remained unscreened, and throughthis we could see nearly the whole interior of the apartment. Our ears, too, were at the proper elevation to catch every sound; and personsconversing within the room we could hear distinctly. 

We were right in our conjecture. It was Aurore we had seen. Gayarrewas the other occupant of the room. 

I shall not paint that scene. I shall not repeat the words to which welistened. I shall not detail the speeches of that mean villain--atfirst fulsome and flattering--then coarse, bold, and brutal; until atlength, failing to effect his purpose by entreaties, he had recourse tothreats. 

D'Hauteville held me back, begging me in earnest whispers to be patient. Once or twice I had almost determined to spring forward, dash aside thesash, and strike the ruffian to the floor. Thanks to the prudentinterference of my companion, I restrained myself. 

The scene ended by Gayarre going out of the room indignant, but somewhatcrest-fallen. The bold, upright bearing of the Quadroon--whosestrength, at least, equalled that of her puny assailant--had evidentlyintimidated him for the moment, else he might have resorted to personalviolence. 

His threats, however, as he took his departure; left no doubt of hisintention soon to renew his brutal assault. He felt certain of hisvictim--she was his slave, and must yield. He had ample time andopportunity. He need not at once proceed to extremes. He could waituntil his valour, somewhat cowed, should return again, and imbue himwith a fresh impulse. 

The disappearance of Gayarre gave us an opportunity to make our presenceknown to Aurore. I was about to climb up to the verandah and tap on theglass; but my companion prevented me from doing so. 

"It is not necessary, " he whispered; "she certainly knows you will behere. Leave it to _her_. She will return to the window presently. Patience, Monsieur! a false step will ruin all. Remember the dogs!"

There was prudence in these counsels, and I gave way to them. A fewminutes would decide; and we both crouched close, and watched themovements of the Quadroon. 

The apartment in which she was attracted our notice. It was not thedrawing-room of the house, nor yet a bedroom. It was a sort of libraryor studio--as shelves filled with books, and a table, covered withpapers and writing-materials, testified. It was, no doubt, the officeof the avocat, in which he was accustomed to do his writing. 

Why was Aurore in that room? Such a question occurred to us; but we hadlittle time to dwell upon it. My companion suggested that as they hadjust arrived, she may have been placed there while an apartment wasbeing prepared for her. The voices of servants overhead, and the noiseof furniture being moved over the floor, was what led him to make thissuggestion; it was just as if a room was being set in order. 

This led me into a new train of reflection. She might be suddenlyremoved from the library, and taken up-stairs. It would then be moredifficult to communicate with her. It would be better to make theattempt at once. 

Contrary to the wish of D'Hauteville, I was about to advance forward tothe window, when the movements of Aurore herself caused me to hesitate. 

The door through which Gayarre had just made his exit was visible fromwhere we stood. I saw the Quadroon approach this with silent tread, asif meditating some design. Placing her hand upon the key, she turned itin the lock, so that the door was thus bolted inside. With what designhad she doing this?

It occurred to us that she was about to make her escape out by thewindow, and that she had fastened the door for the purpose of delayingpursuit. If so, it would be better for us to remain quiet, and leaveher to complete the design. It would be time enough to warn her of ourpresence when she should reach the window. This was D'Hauteville'sadvice. 

In one corner of the room stood a large mahogany desk, and over its headwas ranged a screen of box-shelves--of the kind known as "pigeon-holes. "These were filled with papers and parchments--no doubt, wills, deeds, and other documents relating to the business of the lawyer. 

To my astonishment I saw the Quadroon, as soon as she had secured thedoor, hastily approach this desk, and stand directly in front of it--hereyes eagerly bent upon the shelves, as though she was in search of somedocument!

Such was in reality the case, for she now stretched forth her hand, drewa bundle of folded papers from the box, and after resting her eyes uponthem for a moment, suddenly concealed them in the bosom of her dress!

"Heavens!" I mentally ejaculated, "what can it mean?"

I had no time to give way to conjectures--for in a second's time Aurorehad glided across the floor, and was standing in the window. 

As she raised the curtain, the light streamed full on the faces ofmyself and my companion, and at the first glance she saw us. A slightexclamation escaped her, but it was of joy, not surprise; and shesuddenly checked herself. 

The ejaculation was not loud enough to be heard across the room. Thesash opened noiselessly--with silent tread the verandah was crossed--andin another moment my betrothed was in my arms! I lifted her over thebalustrade, and we passed hastily along the walks of the garden. 

The outer field was reached without any alarm having been given; and, directing ourselves between the rows of the canes, we speeded on towardsthe woods, that loomed up like a dark wall in the distance. 

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN. 

THE LOST MUSTANGS. 

The lightning continued to play at intervals, and we had no difficultyin finding our way. We recrossed near the same place where we hadentered the field; and, guiding ourselves along the fence, hurried ontowards the thicket of pawpaws, where we had left our horses. 

My design was to take to the road at once, and endeavour to reach thecity before daybreak. Once there, I hoped to be able to keepconcealed--both myself and my betrothed--until some opportunity offeredof getting out to sea, or up the river to one of the free states. Inever thought of taking to the woods. Chance had made me acquaintedwith a rare hiding-place, and no doubt we might have found concealmentthere for a time. The advantage of this had crossed my mind, but I didnot entertain the idea for a moment. Such a refuge could be buttemporary. We should have to flee from it in the end, and thedifficulty of escaping from the country would be as great as ever. Either for victim or criminal there is no place of concealment so safeas the crowded haunts of the populous city; and in New Orleans--half ofwhich consists of a "floating" population--incognito is especiallyeasily to be preserved. 

My design, therefore--and D'Hauteville approved it--was to mount ourhorses, and make direct for the city. 

Hard work I had cut out for our poor animals, especially the one thatshould have to "carry double. " Tough hacks they were, and had done thejourney up cleverly enough, but it would stretch all their muscle totake us back before daylight. 

Aided by the flashes, we wound our way, amid the trunks of the trees, until at length we came within sight of the pawpaw thicket--easilydistinguished by the large oblong leaves of the _asiminiers_, which hada whitish sheen under the electric light. We hurried forward withjoyful anticipation. Once mounted, we should soon get beyond the reachof pursuit. 

"Strange the horses do not neigh, or give some sign of their presence!One would have thought our approach would have startled them. But no, there is no whimper, no hoof-stroke; yet we must be close to them now. I never knew of horses remaining so still? What can they be doing?Where are they?"

"Ay, where are they?" echoed D'Hauteville; "surely this is the spotwhere we left them?"

"Here it certainly was! Yes--here--this is the very sapling to which Ifastened my bridle. See! here are their hoof-prints. By Heaven! the_horses are gone_!"

I uttered this with a full conviction of its truth. There was no roomleft for doubt. There was the trampled earth where they had stood--there the very tree to which we had tied them. I easily recognised it--for it was the largest in the grove. 

Who had taken them away? This was the question that first occurred tous. Some one had been dogging us? Or had it been some one who had comeacross the animals by accident? The latter supposition was the lessprobable. Who would have been wandering in the woods on such a night?or even if any one had, what would have taken them into the pawpawthicket? Ha! a new thought came into my head--perhaps the horses hadgot loose of themselves?

That was likely enough. Well, we should be able to tell as soon as thelightning flashed again, whether they had set themselves free; orwhether some human hand had undone the knotted bridles. We stood by thetree waiting for the light. It did not tarry long; and when it came itenabled us to solve the doubt. My conjecture was correct; the horseshad freed themselves. The broken branches told the tale. Something--the lightning--or more likely a prowling wild beast, had _stampeded_them; and they had broken off into the woods. 

We now reproached ourselves for having so negligently fastened them--forhaving tied them to a branch of the _asiminier_, whose soft succulentwood possesses scarcely the toughness of an ordinary herbaceous plant. I was rather pleased at the discovery that the animals had freedthemselves. There was a hope they had not strayed far. We might yetfind them near at hand, with trailing bridles, cropping the grass. 

Without loss of time we went in search of them--D'Hauteville took onedirection, I another, while Aurore remained in the thicket of thepawpaws. 

I ranged around the neighbourhood, went back to the fence, followed itto the road, and even went some distance along the road. I searchedevery nook among the trees, pushed through thickets and cane-brakes, and, whenever it flashed, examined the ground for tracks. At intervalsI returned to the point of starting, to find that D'Hauteville had beenequally unsuccessful. 

After nearly an hour spent in this fruitless search, I resolved to giveit up. I had no longer a hope of finding the horses; and, withdespairing step, I turned once more in the direction of the thicket. D'Hauteville had arrived before me. 

As I approached, the quivering gleam enabled me to distinguish hisfigure. He was standing beside Aurore. He was conversing familiarlywith her. I fancied he was _polite_ to her, and that she seemedpleased. There was something in this slight scene that made a painfulimpression upon me. 

Neither had he found any traces of the missing steeds. It was no uselooking any longer for them; and we agreed to discontinue the search, and pass the night in the woods. 

It was with a heavy heart that I consented to this; but we had noalternative. Afoot we could not possibly reach New Orleans beforemorning; and to have been found on the road after daybreak would haveinsured our capture. Such as we could not pass without observation; andI had no doubt that, at the earliest hour, a pursuing party would takethe road to the city. 

Our most prudent plan was to remain all night where we were, and renewour search for the horses as soon as it became day. If we shouldsucceed in finding them, we might conceal them in the swamp till thefollowing night, and then make for the city. If we should not recoverthem, then, by starting at an earlier hour, we might attempt the journeyon foot. 

The loss of the horses had placed us in an unexpected dilemma. It hadseriously diminished our chances of escape, and increased the peril ofour position. 

_Peril_ I have said, and in such we stood--peril of no trifling kind. You will with difficulty comprehend the nature of our situation. Youwill imagine yourself reading the account of some ordinary lover'sescapade--a mere runaway match, _a la Gretna Green_. 

Rid yourself of this fancy. Know that all three of us had committed anact for which we were amenable. Know that my _crime_ rendered me liableto certain and severe punishment by the _laws of the land_; that a stillmore terrible sentence might be feared _outside the laws of the land_. I knew all this--I knew that life itself was imperilled by the act I hadcommitted!

Think of our danger, and it may enable you to form some idea of whatwere our feelings after returning from our bootless hunt after thehorses. 

We had no choice but stay where we were till morning. 

We spent half-an-hour in dragging the _tillandsia_ from the trees, andcollecting the soft leaves of the pawpaws. With these I strewed theground; and, placing Aurore upon it, I covered her with my cloak. 

For myself I needed no couch. I sat down near my beloved, with my backagainst the trunk of a tree. I would fain have pillowed her head uponmy breast, but the presence of D'Hauteville restrained me. Even thatmight not have hindered me, but the slight proposal which I made hadbeen declined by Aurore. Even the hand that I had taken in mine wasrespectfully withdrawn!

I will confess that this coyness surprised and piqued me. 

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT. 

A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 

Lightly clad as I was, the cold dews of the night would have preventedme from sleeping; but I needed not that to keep me awake. I could nothave slept upon a couch of eider. 

D'Hauteville had generously offered me his cloak, which I declined. He, too, was clad in cottonade and linen--though that was not the reason formy declining his offer. Even had I been suffering, I could not haveaccepted it. I began to fear him!

Aurore was soon asleep. The lightning showed me that her eyes wereclosed, and I could tell by her soft regular breathing that she slept. This, too, annoyed me!

I watched for each new gleam that I might look upon her. Each time asthe quivering light illumined her lovely features, I gazed upon themwith mingled feelings of passion and pain. Oh! could there be falsehoodunder that fair face? Could sin exist in that noble soul? After allwas I _not_ beloved?

Even so, there was no withdrawing now--no going back from my purpose. The race in which I had embarked must be run to the end--even at thesacrifice both of heart and life. I thought only of the purpose thathad brought us there. 

As my mind became calmer, I again reflected on the means of carrying itout. As soon as day should break, I would go in search of the horses--track them, if possible, to where they had strayed--recover them, andthen remain concealed in the woods until the return of another night. 

Should we not recover the horses, what then?

For a long time, I could not think of what was best to be done in such acontingency. 

At length an idea suggested itself--a plan so feasible that I could nothelp communicating it to D'Hauteville, who like myself was awake. Theplan was simple enough, and I only wondered I had not thought of itsooner. It was that he (D'Hauteville) should proceed to Bringiers, procure other horses or a carriage there, and at an early hour of thefollowing night meet us on the Levee Road. 

What could be better than this? There would be no difficulty in hisobtaining the horses at Bringiers--the carriage more likely. D'Hauteville was not known--at least no one would suspect his having anyrelations with me. I was satisfied that the disappearance of thequadroon would be at once attributed to me. Gayarre himself would knowthat; and therefore I alone would be suspected and sought after. D'Hauteville agreed with me that this would be the very plan to proceedupon, in case our horses could not be found; and having settled thedetails, we awaited with less apprehension for the approach of day. 

Day broke at length. The grey light slowly struggled through theshadowy tree-tops, until it became clear enough to enable us to renewthe search. 

Aurore remained upon the ground; while D'Hauteville and I, takingdifferent directions set out after the horses. 

D'Hauteville went farther into the woods, while I took the oppositeroute. 

I soon arrived at the zigzag fence bounding the fields of Gayarre; forwe were still upon the very borders of his plantation. On reachingthis, I turned along its edge, and kept on for the point where thebye-road entered the woods. It was by this we had come in on theprevious night, and I thought it probable the horses might have taken itinto their heads to stray back the same way. 

I was right in my conjecture. As soon as I entered the embouchure ofthe road, I espied the hoof-tracks of both animals going out towards theriver. I saw also those we had made on the previous night coming in. Icompared them. The tracks leading both ways were made by the samehorses. One had a broken shoe, which enabled me at a glance to tellthey were the same. I noted another "sign" upon the trail. I notedthat our horses in passing out dragged their bridles, with branchesadhering to them. This confirmed the original supposition, that theyhad broken loose. 

It was now a question of how far they had gone. Should I follow andendeavour to overtake them? It was now bright daylight, and the riskwould be great. Long before this, Gayarre and his friends would be upand on the alert. No doubt parties were already traversing the LeveeRoad as well as the bye-paths among the plantations. At every step Imight expect to meet either a scout or a pursuer. 

The tracks of the horses showed they had been travelling rapidly andstraight onward. They had not stopped to browse. Likely they had gonedirect to the Levee Road, and turned back to the city. They were liveryhorses, and no doubt knew the road well. Besides, they were of theMexican breed--"mustangs. " With these lively animals the trick ofreturning over a day's journey without their riders is not uncommon. 

To attempt to overtake them seemed hopeless as well as perilous, and Iat once gave up the idea and turned back into the woods. As Iapproached the pawpaw thicket, I walked with lighter tread. I amashamed to tell the reason. Foul thoughts were in my heart. 

The murmur of voices fell upon my ear. 

"By Heaven! D'Hauteville has again got back before me!"

I struggled for some moments with my honour. It gave way; and I made myfurther approach among the pawpaws with the silence of a thief. 

"D'Hauteville and she in close and friendly converse! They standfronting each other. Their faces almost meet--their attitudes betoken amutual interest. They talk in an earnest tone--in the low murmuring oflovers! O God!"

At this moment the scene on the wharf-boat flashed on my recollection. I remembered the youth wore a cloak, and that he was of low stature. Itwas he who was standing before me! That puzzle was explained. I wasbut a waif--a foil--a thing for a coquette to play with!

There stood the _true_ lover of Aurore!

I stopped like one stricken. The sharp aching of my heart, oh! I maynever describe. It felt as if a poisoned arrow had pierced to its verycore, and there remained fixed and rankling. I felt faint and sick. Icould have fallen to the ground. 

She has taken something from her bosom. She is handing it to him! Alove-token--a _gage d'amour_!

No. I am in error. It is the parchment--the paper taken from the deskof the avocat. What does it mean? What mystery is this? Oh! I shalldemand a full explanation from both of you. I shall--patience, heart!--patience!

D'Hauteville has taken the papers, and hidden them under his cloak. Heturns away. His face is now towards me. His eyes are upon me. I amseen!

"Ho! Monsieur?" he inquired, advancing to meet me. "What success? Youhave seen nothing of the horses!"

I made an effort to speak calmly. 

"Their tracks, " I replied. 

Even in this short phrase my voice was quivering with emotion. He mighteasily have noticed my agitation, and yet he did not seem to do so. 

"Only their tracks, Monsieur! Whither did they lead?"

"To the Levee Road. No doubt they have returned towards the city. Weneed have no farther dependence on them. "

"Then I shall go to Bringiers at once?"

This was put hypothetically. 

The proposal gave me pleasure. I wished him away. 

I wished to be alone with Aurore. 

"It would be as well, " I assented, "if you do not deem it too early?"

"Oh, no! besides, I have business in Bringiers that will occupy me allthe day. "

"Ah!"

"Doubt not my return to meet you. I am certain to procure either horsesor a carriage. Half-an-hour after twilight you will find me at the endof the bye-road. Fear not, Monsieur! I have a strong presentiment thatfor you all will yet be well. For _me_--ah!"

A deep sigh escaped him as he uttered the last phrase. 

What did it mean? Was he mocking me? Had this strange youth a secretbeyond _my_ secret? Did he _know_ that Aurore loved _him_? Was he soconfident--so sure of her heart, that he recked not thus leaving heralone with me? Was he playing with me as the tiger with its victim?Were _both_ playing with me?

These horrid thoughts crowding up, prevented me from making a definiterejoinder to his remarks. I muttered something about hope, but heseemed hardly to heed my remark. For some reason he was evidentlydesirous of being gone; and bidding Aurore and myself adieu, he turnedabruptly off, and with quick, light steps, threaded his way through thewoods. 

With my eyes I followed his retreating form, until it was hidden by theintervening branches. I felt relief that he was gone. I could havewished that he was gone for ever. Despite the need we had of hisassistance--despite the absolute necessity for his return--at thatmoment I could have wished that we should never see him again!

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE. 

LOVE'S VENGEANCE. 

Now for an explanation with Aurore! Now to give vent to the direpassion of jealousy--to relieve my heart with recriminations--with thebitter-sweet vengeance of reproach!

I could stifle the foul emotion no longer--no longer conceal it. Itmust have expression in words. 

I had purposely remained standing with my face averted from her, tillD'Hauteville was gone out of sight. Longer, too. I was endeavouring tostill the wild throbbings of my breast--to affect the calmness ofindifference. Vain hypocrisy! To her eyes my spite must have beenpatent, for in this the keen instincts of woman are not to be baffled. 

It was even so. She comprehended all. Hence the wild act--the_abandon_ to which at that moment she gave way. 

I was turning to carry out my design, when I felt the soft pressure ofher body against mine--her arms encircled my neck--her head, with faceupturned, rested upon my bosom, and her large lustrous eyes sought minewith a look of melting inquiry. 

That look should have satisfied me. Surely no eyes but the eyes of lovecould have borne such expression?

And yet I was not content. I faltered out--

"Aurore, you do not love me!"

"_Ah, Monsieur! pourquoi cette cruaute? Je t'aime_--_mon Dieu! avectout mon coeur je t'aime_!"

Even this did not still my suspicious thoughts. The circumstances hadbeen too strong--jealousy had taken too firm a hold to be plucked out bymere assurances. Explanation alone could satisfy me. That orconfession. 

Having made a commencement, I went on. I detailed what I had seen atthe landing--the after conduct of D'Hauteville--what I had observed thepreceding night--what I had just that moment witnessed. I detailed all. I added no reproaches. There was time enough for them when I shouldreceive her answer. 

It came in the midst of tears. She had known D'Hauteville before--thatwas acknowledged. There _was_ a mystery in the relations that existedbetween them. I was solicited not to require an explanation. Mypatience was appealed to. It was not her secret. I should soon knowall. In due time all would be revealed. 

How readily my heart yielded to these delicious words! I no longerdoubted. How could I, with those large eyes, full of love-light, shining through the tear-bedewed lashes?

My heart yielded. Once more my arms closed affectionately around theform of my betrothed, and a fervent kiss renewed the vow of ourbetrothal. 

We could have remained long upon this love-hallowed spot, but prudenceprompted us to leave it. We were too near to the point of danger. Atthe distance of two hundred yards was the fence that separated Gayarre'splantation from the wild woods; and from that could even be seen thehouse itself, far off over the fields. The thicket concealed this, itwas true; but should pursuit lead that way, the thicket would be thefirst place that would be searched. It would be necessary to seek ahiding-place farther off in the woods. 

I bethought me of the flowery glade--the scene of my adventure with the_crotalus_. Around it the underwood was thick and shady, and there werespots where we could remain screened from the observation of the keenesteyes. At that moment I thought only of such concealment. It neverentered my head that there were means of discovering us, even in theheart of the tangled thicket, or the pathless maze of the cane-brake. Iresolved, therefore, to make at once for the glade. 

The pawpaw thicket, where we had passed the night, lay near thesouth-eastern angle of Gayarre's plantation. To reach the glade itwould be necessary for us to pass a mile or more to the northward. Bytaking a diagonal line through the woods, the chances were ten to one weshould lose our way, and perhaps not find a proper place of concealment. The chances were, too, that we might not find a path, through thenetwork of swamps and bayous that traversed the forest in everydirection. 

I resolved, therefore, to skirt the plantation, until I had reached thepath that I had before followed to the glade, and which I nowremembered. There would be some risk until we had got to the northwardof Gayarre's plantation; but we should keep at a distance from thefence, and as much as possible in the underwood. Fortunately a belt of"palmetto" land, marking the limits of the annual inundation, extendednorthward through the woods, and parallel to the line of fence. Thissingular vegetation, with its broad fan-like fronds, formed an excellentcover; and a person passing through it with caution could not beobserved from any great distance. The partial lattice-work of itsleaves was rendered more complete by the tall flower-stalks of the_altheas_, and other malvaceous plants that shared the ground with thepalmettos. 

Directing ourselves within the selvage of this rank vegetation, weadvanced with caution; and soon came opposite the place where we hadcrossed the fence on the preceding night. At this point the woodsapproached nearest to the house of Gayarre. As already stated, but onefield lay between, but it was nearly a mile in length. It was deadlevel, however, and did not appear half so long. By going forward tothe fence, we could have seen the house at the opposite end, and verydistinctly. 

I had no intention of gratifying my curiosity at that moment by such anact, and was moving on, when a sound fell upon my ear that caused mesuddenly to halt, while a thrill of terror ran through my veins. 

My companion caught me by the arm, and looked inquiringly in my face. 

A caution to her to be silent was all the reply I could make; and, leaning a little lower, so as to bring my ear nearer to the ground, Ilistened. 

The suspense was short. I heard the sound again. My first conjecturewas right. It was the "growl" of a hound!

There was no mistaking that prolonged and deep-toned note. I was toofond a disciple of Saint Hubert not to recognise the bay of a long-earedMolossian. Though distant and low, like the hum of a forest bee, I wasnot deceived in the sound. It fell upon my ears with a terrible import!

And why terrible was the baying of a hound? To me above all others, whose ears, attuned to the "tally ho!" and the "view hilloa!" regardedthese sounds as the sweetest of music? Why terrible? Ah! you mustthink of the circumstances in which I was placed--you must think, too, of the hours I spent with the snake-charmer--of the tales he told me inthat dark tree-cave--the stories of runaways, of sleuth-dogs, ofman-hunters, and "nigger-hunts, "--practices long thought to be confinedto Cuba, but which I found as rife upon the soil of Louisiana, --you mustthink of all these, and then you will understand why I trembled at thedistant baying of a hound. 

The howl I heard was still very distant. It came from the direction ofGayarre's house. It broke forth at intervals. It was not like theutterance of a hound upon the trail, but that of dogs just cleared fromthe kennel, and giving tongue to their joy at the prospect of sport. 

Fearful apprehensions were stirred within me at the moment. A terribleconjecture rushed across my brain. _They were after us with hounds_!

CHAPTER SEVENTY. 

HOUNDS ON OUR TRAIL. 

O God! after us with hounds!

Either after us, or about to be, was the hypothetic form of myconjecture. 

I could proceed no farther upon our path till I had become satisfied. 

Leaving Aurore among the palmettoes. I ran directly forward to thefence, which was also the boundary of the woods. On reaching this, Igrasped the branch of a tree, and swung myself up to such an elevationas would enable me to see over the tops of the cane. This gave me afull view of the house shining under the sun that had now risen in allhis splendour. 

At a glance I saw that I had guessed aright. Distant as the house was, I could plainly see men around it, many of them on horseback. Theirheads were moving above the canes; and now and then the deep bay ofhounds told that several dogs were loose about the enclosure. The scenewas just as if a party of hunters had assembled before going out upon adeer "drive;" and but for the place, the time, and the circumstancesthat had already transpired, I might have taken it for such. Fardifferent, however, was the impression it made upon me. I knew well whywas that gathering around the house of Gayarre. I knew well the gamethey were about to pursue. I lingered but a moment upon my perch--longenough to perceive that the _hunters_ were all mounted and ready tostart. 

With quick-beating pulse I retraced my steps; and soon rejoined mycompanion, who stood awaiting me with trembling apprehension. 

I did not need to tell her the result of my reconnoissance: she read itin my looks. She, too, had heard the baying of the dogs. She was anative, and knew the customs of the land: she knew that hounds were usedto hunt deer and foxes and wild-cats of the woods; but she knew alsothat on many plantations there were some kept for a far differentpurpose--sleuth-dogs, _trained to the hunting of men_!

Had she been of slow comprehension, I might have attempted to concealfrom her what I had learnt; but she was far from that, and with quickinstinct she divined all. 

Our first feeling was that of utter hopelessness. There seemed nochance of our escaping. Go where we would, hounds, trained to the scentof a human track, could not fail to follow and find us. It would be ofno use hiding in the swamp or the bush. The tallest sedge or thethickest underwood could not give us shelter from pursuers like these. 

Our first feeling, then, was that of hopelessness--quickly followed by ahalf-formed resolve to go no farther, to stand our ground and be taken. We had not death to fear; though I knew that if taken I might make up mymind to some rough handling. I knew the feeling that was abroad inrelation to the Abolitionists--at that time raging like a fever. I hadheard of the barbarous treatment which some of these "fanatics"--as theywere called--had experienced at the hands of the incensed slave-owners. I should no doubt be reckoned in the same category, or maybe, stillworse, be charged as a "nigger-stealer. " In any case I had to fearchastisement, and of no light kind either. 

But my dread of this was nothing when compared with the reflection that, if taken, _Aurore must go back to Gayarre_!

It was this thought more than any other that made my pulse beat quickly. It was this thought that determined me not to surrender until afterevery effort to escape should fail us. 

I stood for some moments pondering on what course to pursue. All atonce a thought came into my mind that saved me from despair. Thatthought was of Gabriel the runaway. 

Do not imagine that I had forgotten him or his hiding-place all thistime. Do not fancy I had not thought of him before. Often, since wehad entered the woods, had he and his tree-cave arisen in my memory; andI should have gone there for concealment, but that the distance deterredme. As we intended to return to the Levee Road after sunset, I hadchosen the glade for our resting-place, on account of its being nearer. 

Even then, when I learnt that hounds would be after us, I had againthought of making for the Bambarra's hiding-place; but had dismissed theidea, because it occurred to me that _the hounds could follow usanywhere_, and that, by taking shelter with the runaway, we should onlyguide his tyrants upon _him_. 

So quick and confused had been all these reflections, that it had neveroccurred to me that the hounds _could not trail us across water_. Itwas only at that moment when pondering how I could throw them off thetrack--thinking of the snake-charmer and his pine-cones--that Iremembered the water. 

Sure enough, in that still lay a hope; and I could now appreciate theremarkable cunning with which the lair of the runaway had been chosen. It was just the place to seek refuge from "de dam blood-dogs. "

The moment I thought of it, I resolved to flee thither. 

I would be sure to know the way. I had taken especial pains to rememberit; for even on the day of my snake-adventure, some half-definedthoughts--something more like a presentiment than a plan--had passedthrough my mind, vaguely pointing to a contingency like the present. Later events, and particularly my design of escaping to the city atonce, had driven these thoughts out of my mind. For all that, I stillremembered the way by which the Bambarra had guided me, and could followit with hurried steps--though there was neither road nor path, save thedevious tracks made by cattle or the wild animals of the forest. 

But I was certain I knew it well. I should remember the signs and"blazes" to which the guide had called my attention. I should rememberwhere it crossed the "big bayou" by the trunk of a fallen tree thatserved as a foot-bridge. I should remember where it ran through a stripof marsh impassable for horses, through the cane-brake, among the greatknees and buttocks of the cypresses, down to the edge of the water. Andthat huge tree, with its prostrate trunk projecting out into the lake, and its moss-wrapped branches--that cunning harbour for the littlepirogue--I should be sure to remember. 

Neither had I forgotten the signal, by which I was to warn the runawaywhenever I should return. It was a peculiar whistle he had instructedme to give, and also the number of times I was to utter it. 

I had not waited for all these reflections. Many of them wereafter-thoughts, that occurred along the way. The moment I rememberedthe lake, I resolved upon my course; and, with a word of cheer to mycompanion, we again moved forward. 

CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE. 

THE SIGNAL. 

The change in our plans made no change in the direction. We continuedon in the same course. The way to the lake passed by the glade, wherewe had purposed going--indeed, through the middle of it lay the nearestpath to the lair of the runaway. 

Not far from the north-east angle of Gayarre's plantation, was the spotwhere I had parted with the black on the night of my adventure with him. It was at this point the path entered the woods. The blaze upon asweet-gum-tree, which I remembered well, showed me the direction. I wasbut too glad to turn off here, and leave the open woods; the more sothat, just as we had reached the turning-point, the cry of the houndscame swelling upon the air, loud and prolonged. From the direction ofthe sound, I had no doubt but that they were already in the cane-field, and lifting our trail of the preceding night. 

For a few hundred yards farther the timber was thin. The axe had beenflourished there, as the numerous "stumps" testified. It was there the"firewood" was procured for the use of the plantation, and "cords" ofit, already cut and piled, could be seen on both sides of our path. Wepassed among these with trembling haste. We feared to meet with some ofthe woodcutters, or the driver of a wood-wagon. Such an encounter wouldhave been a great misfortune; as, whoever might have seen us would haveguided our pursuers on the track. 

Had I reasoned calmly I would not have felt uneasiness on this head. Imight have known, that if the dogs succeeded in tracking us thus far, they would need no direction from either wagoner or wood-chopper. Butin the hurry of the moment I did not think of this; and I felt reliefwhen we had passed through the tract of broken woods, and were enteringunder the more sombre shadow of the virgin forest. 

It was now a question of time--a question of whether we should be ableto reach the lake, summon the Bambarra with his pirogue, and be paddledout of sight, before the dogs should trail us to the edge of the water. Should we succeed in doing so, we should then have a fair prospect ofescape. No doubt the dogs would guide our pursuers to the place of ourembarkation--the fallen tree--but then both dogs and men would be atfault. That gloomy lake of the woods was a rare labyrinth. Though theopen water was a surface of small extent, neither it, nor theisland-like motte of timber in its centre, was visible from the place ofembarkation; and, besides the lake itself, the inundation covered alarge tract of the forest. Even should our pursuers be certain that wehad escaped by the water, they might despair of finding us in the midstof such a maze--where the atmosphere at that season of fall foliage hadthe hue of a dark twilight. 

But they would hardly be convinced of our escape in that way. There wasno trace left where the pirogue was moored--no mark upon the tree. Theywould scarce suspect the existence of a canoe in such an out-of-the-wayspot, where the water--a mere stagnant pond--had no communication eitherwith the river or the adjacent bayous. We were leaving no tracks--Itook care of that--that could be perceived under the forest gloom; andour pursuers might possibly conclude that the dogs had been running uponthe trail of a bear, a cougar, or the swamp wild-cat (_Lynx rufus_)--allof which animals freely take the water when pursued. With suchprobabilities I was cheering myself and my companion, as we kept rapidlyalong our course!

My greatest source of apprehension was the delay we should have to make, after giving the signal to the runaway. Would he hear it at once?Would he attend to it in due haste? Would he arrive in time? Thesewere the points about which I felt chiefly anxious. Time was theimportant consideration; in that lay the conditions of our danger. Oh!that I had thought of this purpose before!--oh! that we had startedearlier!

How long would it take our pursuers to come up? I could scarce trustmyself to think of a reply to this question. Mounted as they were, theywould travel faster than we: the dogs would guide them at a run!

One thought alone gave me hope. They would soon find our resting-placeof the night; they would see where we had slept by the pawpaw-leaves andthe moss; they could not fail to be certain of all that; but would theyso easily trail us thence? In our search after the horses, we hadtracked the woods in all directions. I had gone back to the bye-road, and some distance along it. All this would surely baffle the dogs for awhile; besides, D'Hauteville, at starting, had left the pawpaw thicketby a different route from that we had taken. They might go off on _his_trail. Would that they might follow D'Hauteville. 

All these conjectures passed rapidly through my mind as we hurriedalong. I even thought of making an attempt to throw the hounds off thescent. I thought of the _ruse_ practised by the Bambarra with the sprayof the loblolly pine; but, unfortunately, I could not see any of thesetrees on our way, and feared to lose time by going in search of one. Ihad doubts, too, of the efficacy of such a proceeding, though the blackhad solemnly assured me of it. The common red onion, he had afterwardstold me would be equally effective for the like purpose! But the redonion grew not in the woods, and the _pin de l'encens_ I could not find. 

For all that I did not proceed without precautions. Youth though I was, I was an old hunter, and had some knowledge of "woodcraft, " gathered indeerstalking, and in the pursuit of other game, among my native hills. Moreover, my nine months of New-world life had not all been passedwithin city walls; and I had already become initiated into many of themysteries of the great American forest. 

I did not proceed, then, in mere reckless haste. Where precautionscould be observed, I adopted them. 

A strip of marsh had to be crossed. It was stagnant water, out of whichgrew flags, and the shrub called "swamp-wood" (_Bois de marais_). Itwas knee-deep, and could he waded. I knew this, for I had crossed itbefore. Hand in hand we waded through, and got safe to the oppositeside; but on entering I took pains to choose a place, where we steppedat once from the dry ground into the water. On going out, I observed alike precaution--so that our tracks might not appear in the mud. 

Perhaps I should not have taken all this trouble, had I known that, there were "hunters" among those who pursued us. I fancied the crowd Ihad seen were but planters, or people of the town--hurriedly broughttogether by Gayarre and his friends. I fancied they might not have muchskill in tracking, and that my simple trick might be sufficient tomislead them. 

Had I known that at their head was a man, of whom Gabriel had told memuch--a man _who made negro-hunting his profession_, and who was themost noted "tracker" in all the country--I might have saved myself boththe time and the trouble I was taking. But I knew not that this ruffianand his trained dogs were after us, and I did my utmost to throw mypursuers off. 

Shortly after passing the marsh, we crossed the "big bayou" by means ofits tree-bridge. Oh! that I could have destroyed that log, or hurled itfrom its position. I consoled myself with the idea, that though thedogs might follow us over it, it would delay the pursuers awhile, who, no doubt, were all on horseback. 

We now passed through the glade, but I halted not there. We stopped notto look upon its bright flowers--we perceived not their fragrance. OnceI had wished to share this lovely scene in the company of Aurore. Wewere now in its midst, but under what circumstances! What wild thoughtswere passing through my brain, as we hurried across this flowery tractunder bright sunshine, and then plunged once more into the sombreatmosphere of the woods!

The path I remembered well, and was able to pursue it without hesitancy. Now and then only did I pause--partly to listen, and partly to rest mycompanion, whose bosom heaved quick and high with the rude exertion. But her glance testified that her courage was firm, and her smilecheered _me_ on. 

At length we entered among the cypress-trees that bordered the lake;and, gliding around their massive trunks, soon reached the edge of thewater. 

We approached the fallen tree; and, climbing up, advanced along itstrunk until we stood among its moss-covered branches. 

I had provided myself with an instrument--a simple joint of the canewhich grew plenteously around, and which with my knife I had shapedafter a fashion I had been already taught by the Bambarra. With this Icould produce a sound, that would be heard at a great distance off, andplainly to the remotest part of the lake. 

Taking hold of the branches, I now bent down, until my face almosttouched the surface of the water, and placing the reed to my lips, Igave utterance to the signal. 

CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO. 

THE SLEUTH-HOUNDS. 

The shrill whistle, pealing along the water, pierced the dark aisles ofthe forest. It aroused the wild denizens of the lake, who, startled bysuch an unusual sound, answered it with their various cries in ascreaming concert. The screech of the crane and the Louisiana heron, the hoarse hooting of owls, and the hoarser croak of the pelican, mingled together; and, louder than all, the scream of the osprey and thevoice of the bald eagle--the last falling upon the ear with sharpmetallic repetitions that exactly resembled the filing of saws. 

For some moments this commotion was kept up; and it occurred to me thatif I had to repeat the signal then it would not have been heard. Shrillas it was, it could scarce have been distinguished in such a din!

Crouching among the branches, we remained to await the result. We madeno attempts at idle converse. The moments were too perilous for aughtbut feelings of extreme anxiety. Now and then a word of cheer--amuttered hope--were all the communications that passed between us. 

With earnest looks we watched the water--with glances of fear weregarded the land. On one side we listened for the plashing of apaddle; on the other we dreaded to hear the "howl" of a hound. Nevercan I forget those moments--those deeply-anxious moments. Till death Imay not forget them. 

Every thought at the time--every incident, however minute--now rushesinto my remembrance, as if it were a thing of yesterday. 

I remember that once or twice, away under the trees, we perceived aripple along the surface of the water. Our hearts were full of hope--wethought it was the canoe. 

It was a fleeting joy. The waves were made by the great saurian, whosehideous body--large almost as the pirogue itself--next moment passedbefore our eyes, cleaving the water with fish-like velocity. 

I remember entertaining the supposition that the runaway _might not bein his lair_! He might be off in the forest--in search of food--or onany other errand. Then the reflection followed--if such were the case, I should have found the pirogue by the tree? Still he might have otherlanding-places around the lake--on the other side perhaps. He had nottold me whether or no, and it was probable enough. These hypotheticconjectures increased my anxiety. 

But there arose another, far more dreadful, because far more probable--

_The black might be asleep_!

Far more probable, because night was his day, and day his night. Atnight he was abroad, roaming and busy--by day he was at home and slept. 

Oh, Heavens! if he should be asleep, and not have heard the signal!

Such was the terrible fancy that rushed across my brain. 

I felt suddenly impelled to repeat the signal--though I thought at thetime, if my conjecture were correct, there was but little hope he wouldhear me. A negro sleeps like a torpid bear. The report of a gun or arailway-whistle alone could awake one. There was no chance for a punypipe like mine--the more especially as the screaming concert stillcontinued. 

"Even if he should hear it, he would hardly be able to distinguish thewhistle from--Merciful heavens!"

I was speaking to my companion when this exclamation interrupted me. Itcame from my own lips, but with involuntary utterance. It was calledforth by a sound of dread import--a sound that I could hear above theshrill screaming of the birds, and hearing could interpret. It was thetrumpet-like baying of a hound!

I stood bent, and listening; I heard it again. There was no mistakingthat note. I had the ears of a hunter. I knew the music well. 

Oh, how unlike to music then! It fell upon my ears like a cry ofvengeance--like a knell of death!

I thought no longer of repeating the signal; even if heard, it would betoo late. I flung the reed away, as a useless toy. I drew Aurore alongthe tree, passing her behind me; and raising myself erect, stoodfronting the land. 

Again the "gowl" broke out--its loud echoes rolling through the woods--this time so near, that every moment I expected to see the animal thathad uttered it. 

I had not long to wait. A hundred yards off was a cane-brake. I couldperceive a motion among the tall reeds. Their tops swayed to and fro, and their hollow culms rattled against each other, as they were jerkedabout, and borne downward. Some living thing was pressing through theirmidst. 

The motion reached their verge--the last canes gave way, and I now sawwhat I had looked for--the spotted body of a hound! With a spring theanimal came forth, paused for a moment in the open ground, and then, uttering a prolonged howl, took up the scent, and galloped forward. 

Close upon his heels came a second; the waving cane closed behind them, and both ran forward in the direction of the log. 

As there was no longer any underwood, I had a full view of their bodies. Gloomy as the place was, I could see them with sufficient distinctnessto note their kind--huge, gaunt deer-hounds, black and tan. From themanner of their approach, they had evidently been trained to their work, and that was _not_ the hunting of deer. No ordinary hound would haverun upon a human track, as they were running upon ours. 

The moment I saw these dogs I made ready for a conflict. Their hugesize, their broad heavy jaws, and ferocious looks, told what savagebrutes they were; and I felt satisfied they would attack me as soon asthey came up. 

With this belief I drew forth a pistol; and, laying hold of a branch tosteady me, I stood waiting their approach. 

I had not miscalculated. On reaching the prostrate trunk, he scarcelymade a pause; but, leaping upward, came running along the log. He haddropped the scent, and now advanced with eyes glaring, evidentlymeditating to spring upon me. 

My position could not have been better, had I spent an hour in choosingit. From the nature of the ground, my assailant could neither dodge tothe right nor the left; but was compelled to approach me in a line asstraight as an arrow. I had nought to do but hold my weapon firm andproperly directed. A novice with fire-arms could hardly have missedsuch an object. 

My nerves were strung with anger--a feeling of intense indignation wasburning in my breast, that rendered me as firm as steel. I was coolfrom very passion--at the thought of being thus hunted like a wolf!

I waited until the muzzle of the hound almost met that of the pistol, and then I fired. The dog tumbled from the log. 

I saw the other close upon his heels. I aimed through the smoke, andagain pulled trigger. 

The good weapon did not fail me. Again the report was followed by aplunge. 

The hounds were no longer upon the log. They had fallen right and leftinto the black water below!

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE. 

THE MAN-HUNTER. 

The hounds had fallen into the water--one dead, the other badly wounded. The latter could not have escaped, as one of his legs had been struckby the bullet, and his efforts to swim were but the throes ofdesperation. In a few minutes he must have gone to the bottom; but itwas not his fate to die by drowning. It was predestined that hishowling should be brought to a termination in a far different manner. 

The voice of the dog is music to the ear of the alligator. Of all otheranimals, this is the favourite prey of the great saurian; and the howlof hound or cur will attract him from any distance where it may beheard. 

Naturalists have endeavoured to explain this in a different way. Theysay--and such is the fact--that the howling of a dog bears a resemblanceto the voice of the young alligator, and that the old ones are attractedtowards the spot where it is heard--the mother to protect it, and themale parent to devour it!

This is a disputed point in natural history; but there can be no disputethat the alligator eagerly preys upon the dog whenever an opportunityoffers--seizing the canine victim in his terrible jaws, and carrying itoff to his aqueous retreat. This he does with an air of such earnestavidity, as to leave no doubt but that he esteems the dog a favouritemorsel. 

I was not surprised, then, to see half-a-dozen of these giganticreptiles emerging from amid the dark tree-trunks, and hastily swimmingtowards the wounded hound. 

The continued howling of the latter guided them; and in a few secondsthey had surrounded the spot where he struggled, and were dashingforward upon their victim. 

A shoal of sharks could not have finished him more expeditiously. Ablow from the tail of one silenced his howling--three or four pair ofgaunt jaws closed upon him at the same time--a short scuffle ensued--then the long bony heads separated, and the huge reptiles were seenswimming off again--each with a morsel in his teeth. A few bubbles andblotches of red froth mottling the inky surface of the water, were allthat remained where the hound had lately been plunging. 

Almost a similar scene occurred on the opposite side of the log--for thewater was but a few feet in depth, and the dead hound was visible as helay at the bottom. Several of the reptiles approaching on that side, had seen this one at the same time, and, rushing forward, they servedhim precisely as his companion had been served by the others. A crumbof bread could not have disappeared sooner among a shoal of hungryminnows, than did the brace of deer-hounds down the throats of theseravenous reptiles. 

Singular as was the incident, it had scarce drawn my notice. I had farother things to think of. 

After firing the pistol, I remained standing upon the tree, with my eyesfixed in the direction whence came the hounds. 

I gazed intently among the tree-trunks, away up the dark vistas of theforest, I watched the cane-brake, to note the slightest motion in thereeds. I listened to every sound, while I stood silent myself, andenjoined silence upon my trembling companion. 

I had but little hope then. There would be more dogs, no doubt--slowerhounds following in the distance--and with them the mounted man-hunters. They could not be far behind--they could not fail to come up soon--thesooner that the report of my pistol would guide them to the spot. Itwould be of no use making opposition to a crowd of angry men. I coulddo nothing else than surrender to them. 

My companion entreated me to this course; abjured me not to use myweapons--for I now held the second pistol in my hand. But I had nointention of using them should the crowd of men come up; I had onlytaken out the pistol as a precaution against the attack of the dogs--should any more appear. 

For a good while I heard no sounds from the forest, and saw no signs ofour pursuers. What could be detaining them? Perhaps the crossing ofthe bayou; or the tract of marsh. I knew the horsemen must there leavethe trail; but were they all mounted?

I began to hope that Gabriel might yet be in time. If he had not heardthe signal-whistle, he must have heard the reports of my pistol? But, on second thoughts, that might only keep him back. He would notunderstand the firing, and might fear to come with the pirogue!

Perhaps he had heard the first signal, and was now on his way. It wasnot too late to entertain such a supposition. Notwithstanding what hadpassed, we had been yet but a short while upon the spot. If on the way, he might think the shots were fired from my double-barrelled gun--firedat some game. He might not be deterred. There was still a hope hemight come in time. If so, we would be able to reach his tree-cave insafety. 

There was no trace of the dogs, save a blotch or two of blood upon therough bark of the log, and that was not visible from the shore. Unlessthere were other dogs to guide them to the spot, the men might not inthe darkness so easily discover these marks. We might yet baffle them!

With fresh hope I turned once more towards the water, and gazed in thedirection in which I expected the pirogue to come. Alas! there was nosign of it. No sound came from the lake save the wild calling of theaffrighted birds. 

I turned once more to the land. 

I saw the cane-brake in motion. The tall culms vibrated and crackledunder the heavy tread of a man, who the next moment emerging into theopen ground, advanced at a slinging trot towards the water!

He was alone and afoot--there were no dogs with him--but the long riflepoised upon his shoulder, and the hunting accoutrements around his body, told me at a glance he was the owner of the deer-hounds. 

His black bushy beard, his leggings, and buckskin shirt, his redneckcloth and raccoon cap--but above all, the brutal ferocity of hisvisage, left me in no doubt as to who this character was. Thedescription of the runaway answered him in every particular. He couldbe no other than _Ruffin the man-hunter_!

CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR. 

SHOT FOR SHOT. 

Yes, the individual who now advanced was Ruffin the man-hunter; and thedogs I had killed, were his--a brace of sleuth-hounds, well-known in thesettlement as being specially trained to tracking the unfortunateblacks, that, driven by cruel treatment, had taken to the woods. 

Well-known, too, was their master--a dissipated brutal fellow, halfhunter, half hog-thief, who dwelt in the woods like an Indian savage, and hired himself out to such of the planters as needed the aid of himand his horrid hounds!

As I have said, I had never seen this individual, though I had heard ofhim often--from Scipio, from the boy Caton, and, lastly, from Gabriel. The Bambarra had described him minutely--had told me wild stories of theman's wickedness and ferocious cruelty--how he had taken the lives ofseveral runaways while in pursuit of them, and caused others to be tornand mangled by his savage dogs!

He was the terror and aversion of every negro quarter along the coast;and his name--appropriate to his character--oft served the sable motheras a "bogey" to frighten her squalling piccaninny into silence!

Such was Ruffin the _man-hunter_, as he was known among the black helotsof the plantations. The "cobbing-board" and the red cowhide were nothalf so terrible as he. In comparison with him, such characters as"Bully Bill, " the flogging overseer, might be esteemed mild and humane. 

The sight of this man at once deprived me of all farther thought ofescape. I permitted my pistol arm to drop loosely by my side, and stoodawaiting his advance, with the intention of surrendering ourselves up. Resistance would be vain, and could only lead to the idle spilling ofblood. With this intention I remained silent, having cautioned mycompanion to do the same. 

On first emerging from the cane-brake, the hunter did not see us. I waspartially screened by the moss where I stood--Aurore entirely so. Besides, the man's eyes were not turned in our direction. They werebent upon the ground. No doubt he had heard the reports of my pistol;but he trusted more to his tracking instincts; and, from his bentattitude. I could tell that he was trailing his own dogs--almost as oneof themselves would have done!

As he neared the edge of the pond, the _smell_ of the water reached him;and, suddenly halting, he raised his eyes and looked forward. The sightof the pond seemed to puzzle him, and his astonishment was expressed inthe short sharp expression--

"Hell!"

The next moment his eyes fell upon the prostrate tree, then quicklyswept along its trunk, and rested full upon me. 

"Hell and scissors!" he exclaimed, "thar are ye! Whar's my dogs?"

I stood eyeing him back, but made no reply. 

"You hear, damn yer! Whar's my dogs?"

I still remained silent. 

His eyes fell upon the log. He saw the blood-spots upon the hark. Heremembered the shots. 

"Hell and damn!" cried he, with horrid emphasis, "you've kilt my dogs!"and then followed a volley of mingled oaths and threats, while theruffian gesticulated as, if he had suddenly gone mad!

After a while he ceased from these idle demonstrations; and, plantinghimself firmly, he raised his rifle muzzle towards me, and cried out:--

"Come off that log, and fetch your blue-skin with you! Quick, damn yer!Come off that log! Another minnit, an' I'll plug ye!"

I have said that at first sight of the man I had given up all idea ofresistance, and intended to surrender at once; but there was somethingso arrogant in the demand--so insulting in the tone with which theruffian made it--that it fired my very flesh with indignation, anddetermined me to stand at bay. 

Anger, at being thus hunted, new-nerved both my heart and my arm. Thebrute had bayed me, and I resolved to risk resistance. 

Another reason for changing my determination--I now saw that he was_alone_. He had followed the dogs afoot, while the others on horsebackhad no doubt been stopped or delayed by the bayou and morass. Had thecrowd come up, I must have yielded _nolens volens_; but the man-hunterhimself--formidable antagonist though he appeared--was still but _one_, and to surrender tamely to a single individual, was more than myspirit--inherited from border ancestry--could brook. There was too muchof the moss-trooper blood in my veins for that, and I resolved, _couteque coute_, to risk the encounter. 

My pistol was once more firmly grasped; and looking the ruffian fullinto his bloodshot eyes, I shouted back--

"Fire at your peril! Miss and you are mine!"

The sight of my uplifted pistol caused him to quail; and I have no doubtthat had opportunity offered, he would have withdrawn from the contest. He had expected no such a reception. 

But he had gone too far to recede. His rifle was already at hisshoulder, and the next moment I saw the flash, and heard the sharpcrack. The "thud" of his bullet, too, fell upon my ear, as it struckinto the branch against which I was leaning. Good marksman as he wasreputed, the sheen of my pistols had spoiled his aim, and he had missedme!

I did not miss _him_. He fell to the shot with a demoniac howl; and asthe smoke thinned off, I could see him writhing and scrambling in theblack mud!

I hesitated whether to give him the second barrel--for I was angry anddesired his life--but at this moment noises reached me from behind. Iheard the plunging paddle, with the sounds of a manly voice; andturning, I beheld the Bambarra. 

The latter had shot the pirogue among the tree-tops close to where westood, and with voice and gesture now urged us to get aboard. 

"Quick, mass'. Quick, 'Rore gal! jump into de dugout! Jump in! TrussOle Gabe!--he stand by young mass' to de deff!"

Almost mechanically I yielded to the solicitations of the runaway--though I now saw but little chance of our ultimate escape--and, havingassisted Aurore into the pirogue, I followed and took my seat besideher. 

The strong arm of the negro soon impelled us far out from the shore; andin five minutes after we were crossing the open lake toward the cypressclump in its midst. 

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE. 

LOVE IN THE HOUR OF PERIL. 

We glided into the shadow of the tree, and passed under its trailingparasites. The pirogue touched its trunk. Mechanically I climbed alongthe sloping buttress--mechanically assisted Aurore. 

We stood within the hollow chamber--the lurking-place of the runaway--and for the present were safe from pursuit. But there was no joy in ourhearts. We knew it was but a respite, without any hope of ultimateconcealment. 

The encounter with Ruffin had ruined all our prospects. Whether thehunter were yet dead or alive, his presence would guide the pursuit. The way we had got off would easily be conjectured, and our hiding-placecould not long remain undiscovered. 

What had passed would be likely to aggravate our pursuers, andstrengthen their determination to capture us. Before Ruffin came up, there was yet a chance of safety. Most of those engaged in the pursuitwould regard it as the mere ordinary affair of a chase after a runawaynegro--a sport of which they might get tired whenever they should losethe track. Considering for whom the hunt was got up--a man so unpopularas Gayarre, --none would have any great interest in the result, exceptinghimself and his ruffian aids. Had we left no traces where we embarkedin the pirogue, the gloomy labyrinth of forest-covered water might havediscouraged our pursuers--most of whom would have given up at thedoubtful prospect, and returned to their homes. We might have been leftundisturbed until nightfall, and it was my design to have then recrossedthe lake, landed at some new point, and, under the guidance of theBambarra, get back to the Levee Road, where we were to meet D'Hautevillewith the horses. Thence, as originally agreed upon, to the city. 

All this programme, I had hastily conceived; and previous to theappearance of Ruffin, there was every probability I should succeed incarrying it out. 

Even after I had shot the dogs, I did not wholly despair. There werestill many chances of success that occurred to me. The pursuers, thought I, detained by the bayou, might have lost the dogs, and wouldnot follow their track so easily. Some time would be wasted at allevents. Even should they form a correct guess as to the fate of thehounds, neither men afoot nor on horseback could penetrate to ourhiding-place. They would need boats or canoes. More time would beconsumed in bringing these from the river, and perhaps night would bedown before this could be effected. On night and D'Hauteville I stillhad confidence. 

That was previous to the conflict with the man-hunter. 

After that affair, circumstances had undergone a change. Alive or dead, Ruffin would guide the pursuit to where we were. If still living--andnow that my angry feeling had passed away I hoped he was--he would atonce direct the pursuers upon us. 

I believed he was not dead--only wounded. His behaviour, afterreceiving the shot, had not been like that of a man mortally wounded. Ibelieved, and hoped, that he still lived:--not that I felt at allremorseful at what had happened, but from mere prudentialconsiderations. If dead, his body by the prostrate tree would soon bediscovered, and would tell the tale to those who came up. We should becaptured all the same, and might expect the more terrible consequences. 

The rencontre with this ruffian had been altogether unfortunate. It hadchanged the face of affairs. Blood had been spilt _in defence of arunaway_. The news would return rapidly to the town. It would spreadthrough the plantations with lightning-speed. The whole community wouldbe fired and roused--the number of our pursuers quadrupled. I should behunted as a _double_ outlaw, and with the hostile energy of vengeance!

I knew all this, and no longer speculated upon the probabilities ofdeliverance. There was not the remotest prospect of our being able toget away. 

I drew my betrothed near me. I folded her in my arms, and pressed herto my heart. Till death she would be mine! She swore it in thatshadowy spot--in that dread and darksome hour. Till death she would bemine!

Her love inspired me with courage; and with courage I awaited theresult. 

Another hour passed. 

Despite our fearful anticipations, that hour was pleasantly spent. Strange it is to say so, but it was in reality one of the happiest hoursI can remember. It was the first time I had been enabled to hold freeconverse with Aurore since the day of our betrothal. We were nowalone--for the faithful black stood sentinel below by the hawser of hispirogue. 

The reaction, consequent upon my late jealousy, had kindled my love to arenewed and fiercer life--for such is the law of nature. In the veryardour of my affection, I almost forgot our desperate situation. 

Over and over again we vowed eternal troth--over and over plighted ourmutual faith, in fond, burning words--the eloquence of our heartfeltpassion. Oh! it was a happy hour!

Alas! it came to an end. It ended with a painful regret, but not withsurprise. I was not surprised to hear horns sounding through the woods, and signal shouts answering each other in different directions. I wasnot surprised when voices came pealing across the water--loud oaths andejaculations--mingled with the plashing of paddles and the plunging ofoars; and, when the negro announced that several boats filled with armedmen were in the open water and approaching the tree, it did not take meby surprise. I had foreseen all this. 

I descended to the base of the cypress, and, stooping down, looked outunder the hanging moss. I could see the surface of the lake. I couldsee the men in their canoes and skiffs, rowing and gesticulating. 

When near the middle of the open water, they lay upon their oars, andheld a short consultation. After a moment they separated, and rowed incircles around, evidently with the design of encompassing the tree. 

In a few minutes they had executed this manoeuvre, and now closed in, until their vessels floated among the drooping branches of the cypress. A shout of triumph told that they had discovered our retreat; and I nowsaw their faces peering through the curtain of straggling _tillandsia_. 

They could see the pirogue, and both the negro and myself standing bythe bow. 

"Surrender!" shouted a voice in a loud, firm tone. "If you resist, yourlives be on your own heads!"

Notwithstanding this summons, the boats did not advance any nearer. They knew that I carried pistols, and that I knew how to handle them--the proofs, were fresh. They approached, therefore, with caution--thinking I might still use my weapons. 

They had no need to be apprehensive. I had not the slightest intentionof doing so. Resistance against twenty men--for there were that numberin the boats, twenty men well armed--would have been a piece ofdesperate folly. I never thought of such a thing; though, if I had, Ibelieve the Bambarra would have stood by me to the death. The bravefellow, steeled to a supernatural courage by the prospect of hispunishment, had even proposed fight! But his courage was madness; and Ientreated him not to resist--as they would certainly have slain him onthe spot. 

I meant no resistance, but I hesitated a moment in making answer. 

"We're all armed, " continued the speaker, who seemed to have someauthority over the others. "It is useless for you to resist--you hadbetter give up!"

"Damn them!" cried another and a rougher voice; "don't waste talk onthem. Let's fire the tree, and smoke 'em out; that moss 'll burn, Ireckon!"

I recognised the voice that uttered this inhuman suggestion. It camefrom Bully Bill. 

"I have no intention of making resistance, " I called out in reply to thefirst speaker. "I am ready to go with you. I have committed no crime. For what I have done I am ready to answer to the laws. "

"You shall answer to _us_, " replied one who had not before spoken; "_we_are the laws here. "

There was an ambiguity in this speech that I liked not; but there was nofurther parley. The skiffs and canoes had suddenly closed in around thetree. A dozen muzzles of pistols and rifles were pointed at me, and adozen voices commanded the negro and myself to get into one of theboats. 

From the fierce, determined glances of these rough men, I saw it wasdeath or obedience. 

I turned to bid adieu to Aurore, who had rushed out of the tree-cave, and stood near me weeping. 

As I faced round, several men sprang upon the buttress; and, seizing mefrom behind, held me in their united grasp. Then drawing my arms acrossmy back, tied them fast with a rope. 

I could just speak one parting word with Aurore, who, no longer intears, stood regarding my captors with a look of scornful indignation. As they led me unresistingly into the boat, her high spirit gave way towords, and she cried out in a voice of scorn--

"Cowards! cowards! Not one of you dare meet him in a fair field--no, not one of you!"

The lofty spirit of my betrothed echoed mine, and gave me proof of herlove. I was pleased with it, and could have applauded; but my mortifiedcaptors gave me no time to reply; for the next moment the pirogue inwhich I had been placed shot out through the branches, and floated onthe open water of the lake. 

CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX. 

A TERRIBLE FATE. 

I saw no more of Aurore. Neither was the black brought along. I couldgather from the conversation of my captors, that they were to be takenin one of the skiffs that had stayed behind--that they were to be landedat a different point from that to which we were steering. I couldgather, too, that the poor Bambarra was doomed to a terriblepunishment--the same he already dreaded--the losing of an arm!

I was pained at such a thought, but still more by the rude jests I hadnow to listen to. My betrothed and myself were reviled with adisgusting coarseness, which I cannot repeat. 

I made no attempt to defend either her or myself. I did not even reply. I sat with my eyes bent gloomily upon the water; and it was a sort ofrelict to me when the pirogue again passed in among the trunks of thecypress-trees, and their dark shadow half concealed my face from theview of my captors. I was brought back to the landing by the oldtree-trunk. 

On nearing this I saw that a crowd of men awaited us on the shore; andamong them I recognised the ferocious Ruffin, with his arm slung in hisred kerchief, bandaged and bloody. He was standing up with the rest. 

"Thank Heaven! I have not killed him!" was my mental ejaculation. "Somuch the less have I to answer for. "

The canoes and skiffs--with the exception of that which carried Auroreand the black--had all arrived at this point, and my captors werelanding. In all there were some thirty or forty men, with a proportionof half-grown boys. Most of them were armed with either pistols orrifles. Under the grey gloom of the trees, they presented a picturesquetableau; but at that moment my feelings were not attuned to enjoy it. 

I was landed among the rest; and with two armed men, one before andanother immediately at my back, I was marched off through the woods. The crowd accompanied us, some in the advance, some behind, while otherswalked alongside. These were the boys and the more brutal of the menwho occasionally taunted me with rude speech. 

I might have lost patience and grown angry, had that served me; but Iknew it would only give pleasure to my tormentors, without bettering mycondition. I therefore observed silence, and kept my eyes averted orturned upon the ground. 

We passed on rapidly--as fast as the crowd could make way through thebushes--and I was glad of this. I presumed I was about to be conductedbefore a magistrate, or "justice of the peace, " as there called. Well, thought I. Under legal authority, and in the keeping of the officers, Ishould be protected from the gibes and insults that were being showeredupon me. Everything short of personal violence was offered; and therewere some that seemed sufficiently disposed even for this. 

I saw the forest opening in front. I supposed we had gone by someshorter way to the clearings. It was not so, for the next moment weemerged into the glade. Again the glade!

Here my captors came to a halt; and now in the open light I had anopportunity to know who they were. At a glance I saw that I was in thehands of a desperate crowd. 

Gayarre himself was in their midst, and beside him his own overseer, andthe negro-trader, and the brutal Larkin. With these were somehalf-dozen Creole-Frenchmen of the poorer class of _proprietaires_, weavers of cottonade, or small planters. The rest of the mob wascomposed of the very scum of the settlement--the drunken boatmen whom Ihad used to see gossiping in front of the "groceries, " and otherdissipated rowdies of the place. Not one respectable planter appearedupon the ground--not one respectable man!

For what had they stopped in the glade? I was impatient to be takenbefore the justice, and chafed at the delay. 

"Why am I detained here?" I asked in a tone of anger. 

"Ho, mister!" replied one; "don't be in such a hell of a hurry! You'llfind out soon enough, I reckon. "

"I protest against this, " I continued. "I insist upon being takenbefore the justice. "

"An' so ye will, damn you! You ain't got far to go. _The justice ishyar_. "

"Who? where?" I inquired, under the impression that a magistrate wasupon the ground. I had heard of wood-choppers acting as justices of thepeace--in fact, had met with one or two of them--and among the rudeforms that surrounded me there might be one of these. "Where is thejustice?" I demanded. "Oh, he's about--never you fear!" replied one. "Whar's the justice?" shouted another. "Ay, whar's the justice?--wharare ye, judge?" cried a third, as if appealing to some one in the crowd. "Come on hyar, judge!" he added. "Come along!--hyar's a fellar wantsto see you!"

I really thought the man was in earnest. I really believed there wassuch an individual in the mob. The only impression made upon me wasastonishment at this rudeness towards the magisterial representative ofthe law. 

My misconception was short-lived, for at this moment Ruffin--thebandaged and bloody Ruffin--came close up to me; and, after scowlingupon me with his fierce, bloodshot eyes, bent forward until his lipsalmost touched my face, and then hissed out--

"Perhaps, Mister nigger-stealer, you've niver heerd ov _Justice Lynch_?"

A thrill of horror run through my veins. The fearful conviction flashedbefore my mind that _they_ were _going to Lynch me_!

CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN. 

THE SENTENCE OF JUDGE LYNCH. 

An undefined suspicion of something of this sort had already crossed mythoughts. I remembered the reply made from the boats, "You shall answerto _us_. _We_ are the law. " I had heard some mysterious innuendoes aswe passed through the woods--I had noticed too, that on our arrival inthe glade, we found those who had gone in the advance halted there, asif waiting for the others to come up; and I could not comprehend why wehad stopped there at all. 

I now saw that the men of the party were drawing to one side, andforming a sort of irregular ring, with that peculiar air of solemnitythat bespeaks some serious business. It was only the boys, and somenegroes--for these, too, had taken part in our capture--who remainednear me. Ruffin had simply approached to gratify his revengefulfeelings by tantalising me. 

All these appearances had aroused wild suspicions within me, but up tothat moment they had assumed no definite form. I had even endeavouredto keep back such a suspicion, under the vague belief, that by the veryimagination of it, I might in some way aid in bringing it about!

It was no longer suspicion. It was now conviction. They were going toLynch me!

The significant interrogatory, on account of the manner in which it wasput, was hailed by the boys with a shout of laughter. Ruffincontinued--

"No; I guess you han't heerd ov that ar justice, since yur a stranger inthese parts, an' a Britisher. You han't got sich a one among yurbigwigs, I reckin. He's the fellar that ain't a-goin' to keep you longin Chancery. No, by God! he'll do yur business in double-quick time. Hell and scissors! yu'll see if he don't. "

Throughout all this speech the brutal fellow taunted me with gestures aswell as words--drawing from his auditory repeated bursts of laughter. 

So provoked was I that, had I not been fast bound, I should have sprungupon him; but, bound as I was, and vulgar brute as was this adversary, Icould not hold my tongue. 

"Were I free, you ruffian, you would not dare taunt me thus. At allevents _you_ have come off but second best. I've crippled _you_ forlife; though it don't matter much, seeing what a clumsy use you make ofa rifle. "

This speech produced a terrible effect upon the brute--the more so thatthe boys now laughed at _him_. These boys were not all bad. They wereincensed against me as an Abolitionist--or "nigger-stealer, " as theyphrased it--and, under the countenance and guidance of their elders, their worst passions were now at play; but for all that, they were notessentially wicked. They were rough backwoods' boys, and the spirit ofmy retort pleased them. After that they held back from jeering me. 

Not so with Ruffin, who now broke forth into a string of vindictiveoaths and menaces, and appeared as if about to grapple me with his oneremaining hand. At this moment he was called off by the men, who neededhim in the "caucus;" and, after shaking his fist in my face, anduttering a parting imprecation, he left me. 

I was for some minutes kept in suspense. I could not tell what thisdread council were debating, or what they meant to do with me--though Inow felt quite certain that they did not intend taking me before anymagistrate. From frequent phrases that reached my ears, such as, "flogthe scoundrel", "tar and feathers, " I began to conjecture that some suchpunishment awaited me. To my astonishment, however, I found, uponlistening a while, that a number of my judges were actually opposed tothese punishments as being too mild! Some declared openly, that_nothing but my life could satisfy the outraged laws_!

The _majority_ took this view of the case; and it was to add to theirstrength that Ruffin had been summoned!

A feeling of terrible fear crept over me--say rather a feeling ofhorror--but it was only complete when the ring of men suddenly broke up, and I saw two of their number lay hold of a rope, and commence reevingit over the limb of a gum-tree that stood by the edge of the glade. 

There had been a trial and a sentence too. Even Judge Lynch has hisformality. 

When the rope was adjusted, one of the men--the negro-trader it was--approached me; and in a sort of rude paraphrase of a judge, summed upand pronounced the sentence!

I had outraged the laws; I had committed two capital crimes. I hadstolen slaves, and endeavoured to take away the life of afellow-creature. A jury of twelve men had tried--and found me guilty;and sentenced me to death by hanging. Even this was not permitted to goforth in an informal manner. The very phraseology was adopted. I wasto be hung by the neck until I should be dead--dead!

You will deem this relation exaggerated and improbable. You will thinkthat I am sporting with you. You will not believe that such lawlessnesscan exist in a Christian--a civilised land. You will fancy that thesemen were sporting with _me_, and that in the end they did not seriouslyintend to _hang me_. 

I cannot help it if you think so; but I solemnly declare that such wastheir design: and I felt as certain at that moment that they intended tohave hanged me, as I now feel that I was not hanged!

Believe it or not, you must remember that I would not have been thefirst victim by many, and that thought was vividly before my mind at thetime. 

Along with it, there was the rope--there the tree--there stood my judgesbefore me. Their looks alone might have produced conviction. There wasnot a ray of mercy to be seen. 

At that awful moment I knew not what I said or how I acted. 

I remember only that my fears were somewhat modified by my indignation. That I protested, menaced, swore--that my ruthless judges answered mewith mockery. 

They were actually proceeding to put the sentence into execution--andhad already carried me across to the foot of the tree--when the sound oftrampling hoofs fell upon our ears, and the next moment a party ofhorsemen galloped into the glade. 

CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT. 

IN THE HANDS OF THE SHERIFF. 

At sight of these horsemen my heart leaped with joy, for among theforemost I beheld the calm, resolute face of Edward Reigart. Behind himrode the sheriff of the parish, followed by a "posse" of about a dozenmen--among whom I recognised several of the most respectable planters ofthe neighbourhood. Every one of the party was armed either with a rifleor pistols; and the manner in which they rode forward upon the ground, showed that they had come in great haste, and with a determined purpose. 

I say my heart leaped with joy. An actual criminal standing upon theplatform of the gallows could not have been more joyed at sight of themessenger that brought him reprieve or pardon. In the new-comers Irecognised friends: in their countenances I read rescue. I was notdispleased, therefore, when the sheriff, dismounting, advanced to myside, and placing his hand upon my shoulder, told me I was his prisoner"in the name of the law. " Though brusquely done, and apparently with adegree of rudeness, I was not displeased either by the act or themanner. The latter was plainly assumed for a purpose; and in the actitself I hailed the salvation of my life. I felt like a rescued man. 

The proceeding did not equally content my former judges, who loudlymurmured their dissatisfaction. They alleged that I had already beentried by a jury of _twelve free citizens_--that I had been found guiltyof nigger-stealing--that I had stolen _two niggers_--that I had resistedwhen pursued, and had "wownded" one of my pursuers; and that, as allthis had been "clarly made out, " they couldn't see what more was wantedto establish my guilt, and that I ought to be _hung_ on the spot, without further loss of time. 

The sheriff replied that such a course would be illegal; that themajesty of the law must be respected; that if I was guilty of the crimesalleged against me, the law would most certainly measure out fullpunishment to me; but that I must first be brought before a justice, andthe charge legally and formally made out; and, finally, expressed hisintention to take me before Justice Claiborne, the magistrate of thedistrict. 

An angry altercation ensued between the mob and the sheriffs party--inwhich but slight show of respect was paid to the high executive--and forsome time I was actually in dread that the ruffians would carry theirpoint. But an American sheriff is entirely a different sort ofcharacter from the idle gentleman who fills that office in an Englishcounty. The former is, in nine cases out of ten, a man of provedcourage and action; and Sheriff Hickman, with whom my _quasi_ judges hadto deal, was no exception to this rule. His "posse, " moreover, hurriedly collected by my friend Reigart, chanced to have among theirnumber several men of a similar stamp. Reigart himself, though a man ofpeace, was well-known to possess a cool and determined spirit; and therewas the landlord of my hotel, and several of the planters whoaccompanied several of the young planters, behaved in a handsome manner;and the law prevailed. 

Yes! thank Heaven and half-a-dozen noble men, the law prevailed--else Ishould never have gone out of that glade alive!

Justice Lynch had to give way to Justice Claiborne, and a respite wasobtained from the cruel verdict of the former. The victorious sheriffand his party bore me off in their midst. 

But though my ferocious judges had yielded for the present, it was notcertain that they would not still attempt to rescue me from the hands ofthe law. To prevent this, the sheriff mounted me upon a horse--hehimself riding upon one side, while an assistant of tried courage tookthe opposite. Reigart and the planters kept close to me before andbehind; while the shouting, blaspheming mob followed both on horsebackand afoot. In this way we passed through the woods, across the fields, along the road leading into Bringiers, and then to the residence of"Squire" Claiborne--Justice of the Peace for that district. 

Attached to his dwelling was a large room or office where the Squire wasused to administer the magisterial law of the land. It was entered by aseparate door from the house itself, and had no particular marks aboutit to denote that it was a hall of justice, beyond the fact that it wasfurnished with a bench or two to serve as seats, and a small desk orrostrum in one corner. 

At this desk the Squire was in the habit of settling petty disputes, administering affidavits at a quarter of a dollar each, and arrangingother small civic matters. But oftener was his magisterial functionemployed in sentencing the mutinous "darkie" to his due the sheriff--sterling men, who were lovers of the law and lovers of fair play aswell--and those, armed to the teeth, would have laid down their lives onthe spot in defence of the sheriff and his demand. True, they were inthe minority in point of numbers; but they had the law upon their side, and that gave them strength. 

There was one point in my favour above all others, and that was, myaccusers chanced to be unpopular men. Gayarre, as already stated, although professing a high standard of morality, was not esteemed by theneighbouring planters--particularly by those of American origin. Theothers most forward against me were known to be secretly instigated bythe lawyer. As to Ruffin, whom I had "wounded, " those upon the groundhad heard the crack of his rifle, and knew that _he had fired first_. In their calmer moments my resistance would have been deemed perfectlyjustifiable--so far as that individual was concerned. 

Had the circumstances been different--had the "two niggers" I had_stolen_ belonged to a popular planter, and not to Monsieur DominiqueGayarre--had Ruffin been a respectable citizen, instead of thedissipated half outlaw that he was--had there not been a suspicion inthe minds of many present that it was _not_ a case of ordinary_nigger-stealing_, then indeed might it have gone ill with me, in spiteof the sheriff and his party. 

Even as it was, a long and angry altercation ensued--loud words, oaths, and gestures of menace, were freely exchanged--and both rifles andpistols were cocked and firmly grasped before the discussion ended. 

But the brave sheriff remained resolute; Reigart acted a most courageouspart; my _ci-devant_ host, and proportion of stripes on the complaint ofa conscientious master--for, after all, such theoretical protection doesthe poor slave enjoy. 

Into this room, then, was I hurried by the sheriff and his assistants--the mob rushing in after, until every available space was occupied. 

CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE. 

THE CRISIS. 

No doubt a messenger had preceded us, for we found Squire Claiborne inhis chair of office, ready to hear the case. In the tall, thin old man, with white hair and dignified aspect, I recognised a fit representativeof justice--one of those venerable magistrates, who command respect notonly by virtue of age and office, but from the dignity of their personalcharacter. In spite of the noisy rabble that surrounded me, I read inthe serene, firm look of the magistrate the determination to show fairplay. 

I was no longer uneasy. On the way, Reigart had told me to be of goodcheer. He had whispered something about "strange developments to bemade;" but I had not fully heard him, and was at a loss to comprehendwhat he meant. In the hurry and crush I had found no opportunity for anexplanation. 

"Keep up your spirits!" said he, as he pushed his horse alongside me. "Don't have any fear about the result. It's rather an odd affair, andwill have an odd ending--rather unexpected for somebody, I should say--ha! ha! ha!"

Reigart actually laughed aloud, and appeared to be in high glee! Whatcould such conduct mean?

I was not permitted to know, for at that moment the sheriff, in a hightone of authority, commanded that no one should "hold communication withthe prisoner;" and my friend and I were abruptly separated. Strange, Idid not dislike the sheriff for this! I had a secret belief that hismanner--apparently somewhat hostile to me--was assumed for a purpose. The mob required conciliation; and all this _brusquerie_ was a bit ofmanagement on the part of Sheriff Hickman. 

On arriving before Justice Claiborne, it required all the authority ofboth sheriff and justice to obtain silence. A partial lull, however, enabled the latter to proceed with the case. 

"Now, gentlemen!" said he, speaking in a firm, magisterial tone, "I amready to hear the charge against this young man. Of what is he accused, Colonel Hickman?" inquired the justice, turning to the sheriff. 

"Of negro-stealing, I believe, " replied the latter. 

"Who prefers the charge?"

"Dominique Gayarre, " replied a voice from the crowd, which I recognisedas that of Gayarre himself. 

"Is Monsieur Gayarre present?" inquired the justice. 

The voice again replied in the affirmative, and the fox-like face of theavocat now presented itself in front of the rostrum. 

"Monsieur Dominique Gayarre, " said the magistrate, recognising him, "what is the charge you bring against the prisoner? State it in fulland upon oath. "

Gayarre having gone through the formula of the oath, proceeded with hisplaint in true lawyer style. 

I need not follow the circumlocution of legal phraseology. Suffice itto say, that there were several counts in his indictment. 

I was first accused of having endeavoured to instigate to mutiny andrevolt the slaves of the plantation Besancon, by having interfered toprevent one of their number from receiving his _just_ punishment!Secondly, I had caused another of these to strike down his overseer; andafterwards had induced him to run away to the woods, and aided him in sodoing! This was the slave Gabriel, who had just that day been capturedin my company. Thirdly and Gayarre now came to the cream of hisaccusation. 

"Thirdly, " continued he, "I accuse this person of having entered myhouse on the night of October the 18th, and having stolen therefrom thefemale slave Aurore Besancon. "

"It is false!" cried a voice, interrupting him. "It is false! _AuroreBesancon_ is _not a slave_!"

Gayarre started, as though some one had thrust a knife into him. 

"Who says that?" he demanded, though with a voice that evidentlyfaltered. 

"I!" replied the voice; and at the same instant a young man leaped uponone of the benches, and stood with his head overtopping the crowd. Itwas D'Hauteville!

"I say it!" he repeated, in the same firm tone. "_Aurore Besancon is noslave, but a free Quadroon_! Here, Justice Claiborne, " continuedD'Hauteville, "do me the favour to read this document!" At the sametime the speaker handed a folded parchment across the room. 

The sheriff passed it to the magistrate, who opened it and read aloud. 

It proved to be the "free papers" of Aurore the Quadroon--thecertificate of her manumission--regularly signed and attested by hermaster, Auguste Besancon, and left by him in his will. 

The astonishment was extreme--so much so that the crowd seemedpetrified, and preserved silence. Their feelings were on the turn. 

The effect produced upon Gayarre was visible to all. He seemed coveredwith confusion. In his embarrassment he faltered out--

"I protest against this--that paper has been stolen from my bureau, and--"

"So much the better, Monsieur Gayarre!" said D'Hauteville, againinterrupting him; "so much the better! You confess to its being stolen, and therefore you confess to its being genuine. Now, sir, having thisdocument in your possession, and knowing its contents, how could youclaim Aurore Besancon as your slave?"

Gayarre was confounded. His cadaverous face became of a white, sicklyhue; and his habitual look of malice rapidly gave way to an expressionof terror. He appeared as if he wanted to be gone; and already crouchedbehind the taller men who stood around him. 

"Stop, Monsieur Gayarre!" continued the inexorable D'Hauteville, "I havenot done with you yet. Here, Justice Claiborne! I have anotherdocument that may interest you. Will you have the goodness to give ityour attention?"

Saying this, the speaker held out a second folded parchment, which washanded to the magistrate--who, as before, opened the document and readit aloud. 

This was a codicil to the will of Auguste Besancon, by which the sum offifty thousand dollars in bank stock was bequeathed to his daughter, Eugenie Besancon, to be paid to her upon the day on which she should beof age by the joint executors of the estate--Monsieur Dominique Gayarreand Antoine Lereux--and these executors were instructed not to makeknown to the recipient the existence of this sum in her favour, untilthe very day of its payment. 

"Now, Monsieur Dominique Gayarre!" continued D'Hauteville, as soon asthe reading was finished, "I charge you with the embezzlement of thisfifty thousand dollars, with various other sums--of which morehereafter. I charge you with having concealed the existence of thismoney--of having withheld it from the assets of the estate Besancon--ofhaving appropriated it to your own use!"

"This is a serious charge, " said Justice Claiborne, evidently impressedwith its truth, and prepared to entertain it. "Your name, sir, if youplease?" continued he, interrogating D'Hauteville, in a mild tone ofvoice. 

It was the first time I had seen D'Hauteville in the full light of day. All that had yet passed between us had taken place either in thedarkness of night or by the light of lamps. That morning alone had webeen together for a few minutes by daylight; but even then it was underthe sombre shadow of the woods--where I could have but a faint view ofhis features. 

Now that he stood in the light of the open window, I had a full, clearview of his face. The resemblance to some one I had seen before againimpressed me. It grew stronger as I gazed; and before the magistrate'sinterrogatory had received its reply, the shock of my astonishment hadpassed. 

"Your name, sir, if you please?" repeated the justice. 

"_Eugenie Besancon_!"

At the same instant the hat was pulled off--the black curls were drawnaside--and the fair, golden tresses of the beautiful Creole exhibited tothe view. 

A loud huzza broke out--in which all joined, excepting Gayarre and histwo or three ruffian adherents. I felt that I was free. 

The conditions had suddenly changed, and the plaintiff had taken theplace of the defendant. Even before the excitement had quieted down, Isaw the sheriff, at the instigation of Reigart and others, strideforward to Gayarre, and placing his hand upon the shoulder of thelatter, arrest him as his prisoner. 

"It is false!" cried Gayarre; "a plot--a damnable plot! These documentsare forgeries! the signatures are false--false!"

"Not so, Monsieur Gayarre, " said the justice, interrupting him. "Thosedocuments are not forgeries. This is the handwriting of AugusteBesancon. I knew him well. This is his signature--I could myself swearto it. "

"And I!" responded a voice, in a deep solemn tone, which drew theattention of all. 

The transformation of Eugene D'Hauteville to Eugenie Besancon hadastonished the crowd; but a greater surprise awaited them in theresurrection of the _steward Antoine_!

Reader! my story is ended. Here upon our little drama must the curtaindrop. I might offer you other tableaux to illustrate the after historyof our characters, but a slight summary must suffice. Your fancy willsupply the details. 

It will glad you to know, then, that Eugenie Besancon recovered thewhole of her property--which was soon restored to its flourishingcondition under the faithful stewardship of Antoine. 

Alas! there was that that could never be restored--the young cheerfulheart--the buoyant spirit--the virgin love!

But do not imagine that Eugenie Besancon yielded to despair--that shewas ever after the victim of that unhappy passion. No--hers was amighty will; and all its energies were employed to pluck the fatal arrowfrom her heart. 

Time and a virtuous life have much power; but far more effective wasthat sympathy of the object beloved--that _pity for love_--which to herwas fully accorded. 

Her heart's young hope was crushed--her gay spirit shrouded--but thereare other joys in life besides the play of the passions; and, it may be, the path of love is not the true road to happiness. Oh! that I couldbelieve this! Oh! that I could reason myself into the belief, that thatcalm and unruffled mien--that soft sweet smile were the tokens of aheart at rest. Alas! I cannot. Fate will have its victims. PoorEugenie! God be merciful to thee! Oh, that I could steep thy heart inthe waters of Lethe!

And Reigart? You, reader, will be glad to know that the good doctorprospered--prospered until he was enabled to lay aside his lancet, andbecome a grandee planter--nay more, a distinguished legislator, --one ofthose to whom belongs the credit of having modelled the present systemof Louisiana law--the most advanced code in the civilised world. 

You will be glad to learn that Scipio, with his Chloe and the "leetleChloe, " were brought back to their old and now happy home--that thesnake-charmer still retained his brawny arms, and never afterwards hadoccasion to seek refuge in his tree-cavern. 

You will not be grieved to know, that Gayarre passed several years ofhis after-life in the palace-prison of Baton Rouge, and then disappearedaltogether from the scene. It was said that under a changed name hereturned to France, his native country. His conviction was easy. Antoine had long suspected him of a design to plunder their joint ward, and had determined to put him to the proof. The raft of chairs hadfloated after all; and by the help of these the faithful steward hadgained the shore, far down the river. No one knew of his escape; andthe idea occurred to this strange old man to remain for a while _enperdu_--a silent spectator of the conduct of Monsieur Dominique. Nosooner did Gayarre believe him gone, than the latter advanced boldlyupon his purpose, and hurried events to the described crisis. It wasjust what Antoine had expected; and acting himself as the accuser, theconviction of the avocat was easy and certain. A sentence of five yearsto the State Penitentiary wound up Gayarre's connexion with thecharacters of our story. 

It will scarce grieve you to know that "Bully Bill" experienced asomewhat similar fate--that Ruffin, the man-hunter, was drowned by asudden rising of the swamp--and that the "nigger-trader" afterwardsbecame a "nigger-stealer;" and for that crime was sentenced at the courtof Judge Lynch to the punishment of "tar and feathers. "

The "sportsmen, " Chorley and Hatcher, I never saw again--though theirfuture is not unknown to me. Chorley--the brave and accomplished, butwicked Chorley--was killed in a duel by a Creole of New Orleans, withwhom he had quarrelled at play. 

Hatcher's bank "got broke" soon after, and a series of ill-fortune atlength reduced him to the condition of a race-course thimble-rig, andsmall sharper in general. 

The pork-merchant I met many years afterward, as a successful _monte_dealer in the "Halls of the Montezumas. " Thither he had gone, --acamp-follower of the American army--and had accumulated an enormousfortune by keeping a gambling-table for the officers. He did not livelong to enjoy his evil gains. The "_vomito prieto_" caught him at VeraCruz; and his dust is now mingled with the sands of that dreary shore. 

Thus, reader, it has been my happy fortune to record _poetical justice_to the various characters that have figured in the pages of our history. 

I hear you exclaim, that two have been forgotten, the hero and heroine?

Ah! no--not forgotten. Would you have me paint the ceremony--the pompand splendour--the ribbons and rosettes--the after-scenes of perfectbliss?

Hymen, forbid! All these must be left to your fancy, if your fancydeign to act. But the interest of a "lover's adventures" usually endswith the consummation of his hopes--not even always extending to thealtar--and you, reader, will scarce be curious to lift the curtain, thatveils the tranquil after-life of myself and my beautiful Quadroon. 

NOTE TO THE PREFACE. 

After what has been stated in the Preface, it will scarce be necessaryto say that the _names_ and some of the _places_ mentioned in this bookare fictitious. Some of the scenes, and many of the characters thatfigure in these pages, are _real_, and there are those living who willrecognise them. 

The book is "founded" upon an actual experience. It was written manyyears ago, and would have been then published, but for the interferenceof a well-known work, which treated of similar scenes and subjects. That work appeared just as the "Quadroon" was about to be put to press;and the author of the the latter, not willing to risk the chances ofbeing considered an imitator had determined on keeping the "Quadroon"from the public. 

Circumstances have ruled it otherwise; and having re-written some partsof the work, he now presents it to the reader as a painting--somewhatcoarse and crude, perhaps--of life in Louisiana. 

The author disclaims all "intention. " The book has been written neitherto aid the Abolitionist nor glorify the planter. The author does notbelieve that by such means he could benefit the slave, else he would notfear to avow it. On the other hand, he is too true a Republican, to bethe instrument that would add one drop to the "bad blood" which, unfortunately for the cause of human freedom, has already arisen between"North" and "South. " No; he will be the last man to aid Europeandespots in this, their dearest wish and desperate hope. 

_London, July_, 1856.