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!