The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West

“D’Hauteville and she in close and friendly converse! They stand fronting each other. Their faces almost meet – their attitudes betoken a mutual interest. They talk in an earnest tone – in the low murmuring of lovers! 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. It was he who was standing before me! That puzzle was explained. I was but 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 may never describe. It felt as if a poisoned arrow had pierced to its very core, and there remained fixed and rankling. I felt faint and sick. I could have fallen to the ground.

She has taken something from her bosom. She is handing it to him! A love-token – a gage d’amour!

No. I am in error. It is the parchment – the paper taken from the desk of the avocat. What does it mean? What mystery is this? Oh! I shall demand a full explanation from both of you. I shall – patience, heart! – patience!

D’Hauteville has taken the papers, and hidden them under his cloak. He turns away. His face is now towards me. His eyes are upon me. I am seen!

“Ho! Monsieur?” he inquired, advancing to meet me. “What success? You have 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 might easily 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. We need 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 all the day.”

“Ah!”

“Doubt not my return to meet you. I am certain to procure either horses or a carriage. Half-an-hour after twilight you will find me at the end of the bye-road. Fear not, Monsieur! I have a strong presentiment that for 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 secret beyond my secret? Did he know that Aurore loved him? Was he so confident – so sure of her heart, that he recked not thus leaving her alone 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 definite rejoinder to his remarks. I muttered something about hope, but he seemed hardly to heed my remark. For some reason he was evidently desirous of being gone; and bidding Aurore and myself adieu, he turned abruptly off, and with quick, light steps, threaded his way through the woods.

With my eyes I followed his retreating form, until it was hidden by the intervening branches. I felt relief that he was gone. I could have wished that he was gone for ever. Despite the need we had of his assistance – despite the absolute necessity for his return – at that moment 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 dire passion of jealousy – to relieve my heart with recriminations – with the bitter-sweet vengeance of reproach!

I could stifle the foul emotion no longer – no longer conceal it. It must have expression in words.

I had purposely remained standing with my face averted from her, till D’Hauteville was gone out of sight. Longer, too. I was endeavouring to still the wild throbbings of my breast – to affect the calmness of indifference. Vain hypocrisy! To her eyes my spite must have been patent, 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 of her body against mine – her arms encircled my neck – her head, with face upturned, rested upon my bosom, and her large lustrous eyes sought mine with a look of melting inquiry.

That look should have satisfied me. Surely no eyes but the eyes of love could have borne such expression?

And yet I was not content. I faltered out —

“Aurore, you do not love me!”

“Ah, Monsieur! pourquoi cette cruauté? Je t’aime—mon Dieu! avec tout mon coeur je t’aime!”

Even this did not still my suspicious thoughts. The circumstances had been too strong – jealousy had taken too firm a hold to be plucked out by mere assurances. Explanation alone could satisfy me. That or confession.

Having made a commencement, I went on. I detailed what I had seen at the landing – the after conduct of D’Hauteville – what I had observed the preceding night – what I had just that moment witnessed. I detailed all. I added no reproaches. There was time enough for them when I should receive her answer.

It came in the midst of tears. She had known D’Hauteville before – that was acknowledged. There was a mystery in the relations that existed between them. I was solicited not to require an explanation. My patience was appealed to. It was not her secret. I should soon know all. In due time all would be revealed.

How readily my heart yielded to these delicious words! I no longer doubted. 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 the form of my betrothed, and a fervent kiss renewed the vow of our betrothal.

We could have remained long upon this love-hallowed spot, but prudence prompted us to leave it. We were too near to the point of danger. At the distance of two hundred yards was the fence that separated Gayarre’s plantation from the wild woods; and from that could even be seen the house itself, far off over the fields. The thicket concealed this, it was true; but should pursuit lead that way, the thicket would be the first place that would be searched. It would be necessary to seek a hiding-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 were spots where we could remain screened from the observation of the keenest eyes. At that moment I thought only of such concealment. It never entered my head that there were means of discovering us, even in the heart of the tangled thicket, or the pathless maze of the cane-brake. I resolved, therefore, to make at once for the glade.

The pawpaw thicket, where we had passed the night, lay near the south-eastern angle of Gayarre’s plantation. To reach the glade it would be necessary for us to pass a mile or more to the northward. By taking a diagonal line through the woods, the chances were ten to one we should lose our way, and perhaps not find a proper place of concealment. The chances were, too, that we might not find a path, through the network of swamps and bayous that traversed the forest in every direction.

I resolved, therefore, to skirt the plantation, until I had reached the path that I had before followed to the glade, and which I now remembered. There would be some risk until we had got to the northward of Gayarre’s plantation; but we should keep at a distance from the fence, and as much as possible in the underwood. Fortunately a belt of “palmetto” land, marking the limits of the annual inundation, extended northward through the woods, and parallel to the line of fence. This singular vegetation, with its broad fan-like fronds, formed an excellent cover; and a person passing through it with caution could not be observed from any great distance. The partial lattice-work of its leaves was rendered more complete by the tall flower-stalks of the altheas, and other malvaceous plants that shared the ground with the palmettos.

Directing ourselves within the selvage of this rank vegetation, we advanced with caution; and soon came opposite the place where we had crossed the fence on the preceding night. At this point the woods approached nearest to the house of Gayarre. As already stated, but one field lay between, but it was nearly a mile in length. It was dead level, however, and did not appear half so long. By going forward to the fence, we could have seen the house at the opposite end, and very distinctly.

I had no intention of gratifying my curiosity at that moment by such an act, and was moving on, when a sound fell upon my ear that caused me suddenly 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, I listened.

The suspense was short. I heard the sound again. My first conjecture was right. It was the “growl” of a hound!