I was mounted. Reigart, in his generous hospitality, had even made me master of a horse--a fine animal that rose buoyantly under me, as though he was also imbued by some n.o.ble pa.s.sion.
My well-trained steed followed the path without need of guidance, and dropping the bridle upon his neck, I left him to go at will, and pursued the train of my reflections.
I loved this young girl--pa.s.sionately and devotedly I loved her. She loved me. She had not declared it in words, but her looks; and now and then 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 to tell I was beloved.
These reflections were pleasant, far more than pleasant; but others followed them of a very different nature.
With whom was I in love? A slave! True, a beautiful slave--but still a slave! How the world would laugh! how Louisiana would laugh--nay, scorn and persecute! The very proposal to make her my wife would subject me to derision and abuse. "What! marry a slave! "Tis contrary to the laws of 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 its prisons!
All this I knew, but not one straw cared I for it. The world"s obloquy in one scale, my love for Aurore in the other--the former weighed but a feather.
True, I had deep regret that Aurore was a slave, but it sprang not from that consideration. Far different was the reason of my regret. _How was 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 I was beloved it seemed a sequence very remote. But it was now brought nearer, and all the faculties of my mind became concentrated on that one thought--"How was I to obtain her freedom?" Had she been an ordinary slave, the answer would have been easy enough; for though not rich, my fortune was still equal to the _price of a human being_!
In my eyes Aurore was priceless. Would she also appear so in the eyes of her young mistress? Was my bride for sale on any terms? But even if money should be deemed an equivalent, would Mademoiselle _sell_ her to _me_? An odd proposal, that of buying _her_ slave for my wife! What would Eugenie Besancon think of it?
The very idea of this proposal awed me; but the time to make it had not yet arrived.
I must first have an interview with Aurore, demand a confession of her love, and then, if she consent to become mine,--_my wife_,--the rest may be arranged. I see not clearly the way, but a love like mine will triumph over everything. My pa.s.sion 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 glanced forward to ascertain the cause. I was opposite the plantation Besancon.
A carriage was just wheeling out from the gate. The horses were headed down the Levee road, and going off at a trot, were soon lost behind the cloud of dust raised by the hoofs and wheels.
I recognised the carriage. It was the barouche of Mademoiselle Besancon. I could not tell who were its occupants, though, from the slight 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 concealed all but my head, and the carriage had turned abruptly on pa.s.sing out of the gate.
I felt disappointed. I had had my ride for nothing, and might now ride back again to Bringiers.
I had drawn bridle with this intent, when it occurred to me I could still 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 just closing it after the carriage.
"Oh!" thought I, "I may as well be sure as to whom I am galloping after."
With this idea I inclined my horse"s head a little, and drew up in front of Scipio.
"Gollies! how young ma.s.s"r ride! Ef he don"t do daat business jes up to de hub! Daat "im do. Wugh!"
Without taking notice of his complimentary speech, I inquired hastily if Mademoiselle was at home.
"No, ma.s.s"r, she jes dis moment gone out--she drive to Ma.s.s"r Marigny."
"Alone?"
"Ye, ma.s.s"r."
"Of course Aurore is with her?"
"No, ma.s.s"r; she gone out by ha.r.s.eff. "Rore, she "tay at home."
If the negro had been observant he might have noticed the effect of this announcement upon me, for I am sure it must have been sufficiently apparent. I felt it in the instant upheaving of my heart, and the flushing 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 agreeable surprise.
Fortunately I did not; for even the faithful Scipio was not to be trusted with such a secret.
With an effort I collected myself, and tamed down my horse, now chafing to continue his gallop. In doing so his head was turned in the direction of the village. Scipio thought I was going to ride back.
"Sure ma.s.s"r not go till he rest a bit? Missa "Genie not home, but dar am "Rore. "Rore get ma.s.s"r gla.s.s ob claret; Ole Zip make um sangaree.
Day berry, berry hot. Wugh!"
"You are about right, Scipio," I replied, pretending to yield to his persuasion. "Take my horse round to the stable. I shall rest a few minutes."
I dismounted, and, pa.s.sing the bridle to Scipio, stepped inside the gate.
It was about a hundred paces to the house, by the direct walk that led from the gate to the front door. But there were two other paths, that wound around the sides of the shrubbery, through copses of low trees-- laurels, myrtles, and oranges. A person approaching by either of these could not be seen from the house until close to the very windows. From each of these paths the low verandah could be reached without going by the front. There were steps leading into it--into the interior of the house as well--for the windows that fronted upon the verandah were, after the Creole fashion, gla.s.s folding-doors, that opened to the bottom, so that the floors of the rooms and verandah-platform were upon the same level.
On pa.s.sing through the gate, I turned into one of these side-paths (for certain reasons giving it the preference), and walked silently on towards the house.
I had taken the longer way, and advanced slowly for the purpose of composing myself. I could hear the beating of my own heart, and feel its quick nervous throbs, quicker than my steps, as I approached the long-desired interview. I believe I should have been more collected in going up to the muzzle of an antagonist"s pistol!
The long yearning for such an opportunity--the well-known difficulty of obtaining it--the antic.i.p.ation of that sweetest pleasure on earth--the pleasure 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 G.o.d as a witness. I should speak unrestrainedly and free. I should hear _her_ voice, listen to the soft confession that she loved me. I should fold her in my arms--against my bosom! I should drink love from her swimming eyes, taste it on her crimson cheek, her coral lips! Oh, I should speak love, 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 into the verandah. The latter was carpeted with a mat of sea-gra.s.s, 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 was pa.s.sing.
I proceeded on toward the drawing-room, which opened to the front by two of the large door-windows already mentioned. I turned the angle, and the next moment would have pa.s.sed the first of these windows, had a sound not reached me that caused me to arrest my steps. The sound was a voice that came from the drawing-room, whose windows stood open. I listened--it was the voice of Aurore!