The Quadroon Part 17

"In conversation with some one! with whom? Perhaps little Chloe? her mother? 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 of the plantation people? Jules, the wood-chopper? the errand-boy, Baptiste? Ha! it is not a negro's voice. No, it is the voice of a white man! the overseer?"

As this idea came into my head, a pang at the same time shot through my heart--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 to make me jealous. His being present with her, and in conversation, was no cause.

"So, my bold n.i.g.g.e.r-driver," thought I, "you have got over your predilection for the little Chloe. Not to be wondered at! Who would waste time gazing at stars when there is such a moon in the sky? Brute that you are, you are not blind. I see you, too, have an eye to opportunities, and know when to enter the drawing-room."

"Hush!"

Again I listened. When I had first halted, it was through motives of delicacy. 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 feigned cough, or a stroke of my foot against the floor. My motives had undergone 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 a distance, or uttered too low, for me to hear what was said. I could hear the silvery tones, but could not distinguish the words. She must be at the further end of the room, thought I. _Perhaps, upon the sofa_.

This conjecture led me to painful imaginings, till the throbbings of my heart drowned the murmur that was causing them.

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

Hush! hark!

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

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

A RIVAL.

I cannot describe the effect produced upon me by this discovery. It was like a shock of paralysis. It nailed me to the spot, and for some moments I felt as rigid as a statue, and almost as senseless. Even had the words uttered by Gayarre been loud enough to reach me, I should scarce have heard them. My surprise for the moment had rendered me deaf.

The antagonism I had conceived towards the speaker, so long as I believed it to be the brute Larkin, was of a gentle character compared with that which agitated me now. Larkin might be young and handsome; by Scipio's account, the latter he certainly was _not_: but even so, I had little fear of _his_ rivalry. I felt confident that I held the heart of Aurore, and I knew that the overseer had no power over _her person_. He was overseer of the field-hands, and other slaves of the plantation-- their master, with full licence of tongue and lash; but with all that, I knew that he had no authority over Aurore. For reasons I could not fathom, the treatment of the quadroon was, and had always been, different from the other slaves of the plantation. It was not the whiteness of her skin--her beauty neither--that had gained her this distinction. These, it is true, often modify the hard lot of the female slave, sometimes detailing upon her a still more cruel fate; but in the case of Aurore, there was some very different reason for the kindness shown her, though _I_ could only _guess_ at it. She had been tenderly reared alongside her young mistress, had received almost as good an education, and, in fact, was treated rather as a _sister_ than a _slave_. Except from Mademoiselle, she received no commands. The "n.i.g.g.e.r-driver" had nothing to do with her. I had therefore no dread of any unlawful influence on his part.

Far different were my suspicions when I found the voice belonged to Gayarre. _He_ had power not only over the slave, but the mistress as well. Though suitor,--as I still believed him,--of Mademoiselle, he could not be blind to the superior charms of Aurore. Hideous wretch as I thought him, he might for all be sensible to love. The plainest may have a pa.s.sion for the fairest. The Beast loved Beauty.

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

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

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

When the first shock of my surprise had pa.s.sed 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 as prudence would allow, and listened. It was not _honourable_, I own, but in dealing with this wretch I seemed to lose all sense of honour. By the peculiar circ.u.mstances of that moment I was tempted from the strict path, but it was the "eavesdropping" of a jealous lover, and I cry you mercy for the act.

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

And I heard every word that from that moment was said. The voices had become louder, or rather the speakers had approached nearer. They were but 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 of the kind. He is very modest, and so Mademoiselle thinks him. I never knew 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 at such a thing to Mademoiselle--ay, or _even to you_, Aurore--I shall make the place too hot for him. He shall visit here no more, the naked adventurer! 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 grat.i.tude to him. She continually talks of it, and it would grieve her if Monsieur Edouard was to come no more. I am sure it would grieve her."

There was an earnestness, a half-entreaty, in the tone of the speaker that 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 a very different sort of impression. There was irony mixed with anger in his 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 expressed anger 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. I felt a hope, however, that it was but one of the little stratagems of love: a species of deceit I could easily pardon. It seemed to produce a pleasant effect on Gayarre, for all at once his voice changed to a lighter 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 has the power to make you free: ay, and the will too,--the will,--Aurore!"

"Please not to talk thus, Monsieur Dominique! I have said before I cannot 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 angry with 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 not so of Mademoiselle! You wrong her, Monsieur. She is not capricious.

What if she heard--"

"_Peste_!" cried Gayarre, interrupting in his turn, and again a.s.suming his tone of bravado. "What care I if she did? Think you I trouble my head 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 my visits here are on _her_ account! ha! ha! ha! No, Aurore,--lovely Aurore! 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, speak it! you shall be no longer a slave,--you shall be free as your mistress is;--you shall have everything,--every pleasure,--dresses, jewels, at will; 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--"