The Quadroon Part 18

"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 a struggling sound, and loud angry exclamations on the part of Aurore.

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

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

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

"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 your business here?"

"I did not come here on _business_, Monsieur," said I, still keeping up the tone of levity. "I did not come here on business, _any more than yourself_."

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 learn that the house of Mademoiselle Besancon is the property of Monsieur Dominique Gayarre. If it were so, I would be less disposed to respect the sanct.i.ty of its roof. You, Sir, have not respected it. You have acted infamously towards this young girl--this young _lady_, for she merits the t.i.tle as much as the best blood in your land. I have witnessed 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 before my pistol. The owner of this house is not at home. At present it is as much mine as yours; and I promise you, that if you are not out of it in ten seconds you shall have my whip laid with severity upon your shoulders."

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 that this is not the country for a _spy_."

"Go, Sir!"

"And you, my fine pattern of quadroon virtue," he added, bending a malicious glance upon Aurore, "there may come a day when you'll be less prudish: 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 wait for that, but gliding through the door, shuffled off over the verandah.

I stopped outside to make sure that he was gone. Advancing to the end of the platform I looked over the paling. The chattering of the birds told me that some one was pa.s.sing through the shrubbery.

I watched till I saw the gate open. I could just distinguish a head above the palings moving along the road. I easily recognised it as that of the disappointed seducer.

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

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

AN HOUR OF BLISS.

Sweet is grat.i.tude under any circ.u.mstances; how much sweeter when expressed in the eyes and uttered by the lips of those we love!

I re-entered the room, my heart swelling with delightful emotions.

Grat.i.tude was poured forth in, lavish yet graceful expressions. Before I could utter a word, or stretch out a hand to hinder, the beautiful girl had glided across the room, and fallen into a kneeling posture at my feet! Her thanks came from her heart.

"Rise, lovely Aurore!" said I, taking her unresisting hand, and leading her 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 to protect the poor slave. The chivalry, so much boasted here, extends not to _us_. We, in whose veins runs the accursed blood, are beyond the pale both of honour and protection. Ah me, n.o.ble stranger! you know not for how much I am your debtor!"

"Call me not _stranger_, Aurore. It is true we have had but slight opportunity of conversing, but our acquaintance is old enough to render that t.i.tle no longer applicable. I would you would speak to me by one more _endearing_."

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

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

"Yes, endearing--I mean, Aurore--that you will not shun me--that you will 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 and educated! I--I--oh Heavens! what am I? A slave--a slave--whom men love only to _ruin_. O G.o.d!--why is my destiny so hard? O G.o.d!"

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

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

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

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

"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 first hour I beheld you--I might almost say before that hour, for you were in my heart before I was conscious of having seen you--from, that first hour I loved you--not with a villain's love, such as you have this moment spurned, but with a pure and honest pa.s.sion. And pa.s.sion I may well call it, for it absorbs every other feeling of my soul. Morning and night, Aurore, I think but of you. You are in my dreams, and equally the companion of my waking hours. Do not fancy my love so calm, because I am now speaking so calmly about it. Circ.u.mstances render me so. I have approached you with a determined purpose--one long resolved upon--and that, perhaps, gives me this firmness in declaring my love. I have said, Aurore, that I love you. I repeat it again--_with my heart and 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 sympathetic interjection had been meant for some third person rather than herself!