Chapter Sixty Seven
The Lost Mustangs
The lightning continued to play at intervals, and we had no difficulty in finding our way. We recrossed near the same place where we had entered the field; and, guiding ourselves along the fence, hurried on towards the thicket of pawpaws, where we had left our horses.
My design was to take to the road at once, and endeavour to reach the city before daybreak. Once there, I hoped to be able to keep concealed – both myself and my betrothed – until some opportunity offered of getting out to sea, or up the river to one of the free states. I never thought of taking to the woods. Chance had made me acquainted with a rare hiding-place, and no doubt we might have found concealment there for a time. The advantage of this had crossed my mind, but I did not entertain the idea for a moment. Such a refuge could be but temporary. We should have to flee from it in the end, and the difficulty of escaping from the country would be as great as ever. Either for victim or criminal there is no place of concealment so safe as the crowded haunts of the populous city; and in New Orleans – half of which consists of a “floating” population – incognito is especially easily to be preserved.
My design, therefore – and D’Hauteville approved it – was to mount our horses, and make direct for the city.
Hard work I had cut out for our poor animals, especially the one that should have to “carry double.” Tough hacks they were, and had done the journey up cleverly enough, but it would stretch all their muscle to take us back before daylight.
Aided by the flashes, we wound our way, amid the trunks of the trees, until at length we came within sight of the pawpaw thicket – easily distinguished by the large oblong leaves of the asiminiers, which had a whitish sheen under the electric light. We hurried forward with joyful anticipation. Once mounted, we should soon get beyond the reach of pursuit.
“Strange the horses do not neigh, or give some sign of their presence! One would have thought our approach would have startled them. But no, there is no whimper, no hoof-stroke; yet we must be close to them now. I never knew of horses remaining so still? What can they be doing? Where are they?”
“Ay, where are they?” echoed D’Hauteville; “surely this is the spot where we left them?”
“Here it certainly was! Yes – here – this is the very sapling to which I fastened my bridle. See! here are their hoof-prints. By Heaven! the horses are gone!”
I uttered this with a full conviction of its truth. There was no room left for doubt. There was the trampled earth where they had stood – there the very tree to which we had tied them. I easily recognised it – for it was the largest in the grove.
Who had taken them away? This was the question that first occurred to us. Some one had been dogging us? Or had it been some one who had come across the animals by accident? The latter supposition was the less probable. Who would have been wandering in the woods on such a night? or even if any one had, what would have taken them into the pawpaw thicket? Ha! a new thought came into my head – perhaps the horses had got loose of themselves?
That was likely enough. Well, we should be able to tell as soon as the lightning flashed again, whether they had set themselves free; or whether some human hand had undone the knotted bridles. We stood by the tree waiting for the light. It did not tarry long; and when it came it enabled us to solve the doubt. My conjecture was correct; the horses had freed themselves. The broken branches told the tale. Something – the lightning – or more likely a prowling wild beast, had stampeded them; and they had broken off into the woods.
We now reproached ourselves for having so negligently fastened them – for having tied them to a branch of the asiminier, whose soft succulent wood possesses scarcely the toughness of an ordinary herbaceous plant. I was rather pleased at the discovery that the animals had freed themselves. There was a hope they had not strayed far. We might yet find them near at hand, with trailing bridles, cropping the grass.
Without loss of time we went in search of them – D’Hauteville took one direction, I another, while Aurore remained in the thicket of the pawpaws.
I ranged around the neighbourhood, went back to the fence, followed it to the road, and even went some distance along the road. I searched every nook among the trees, pushed through thickets and cane-brakes, and, whenever it flashed, examined the ground for tracks. At intervals I returned to the point of starting, to find that D’Hauteville had been equally unsuccessful.
After nearly an hour spent in this fruitless search, I resolved to give it up. I had no longer a hope of finding the horses; and, with despairing step, I turned once more in the direction of the thicket. D’Hauteville had arrived before me.
As I approached, the quivering gleam enabled me to distinguish his figure. He was standing beside Aurore. He was conversing familiarly with her. I fancied he was polite to her, and that she seemed pleased. There was something in this slight scene that made a painful impression upon me.
Neither had he found any traces of the missing steeds. It was no use looking any longer for them; and we agreed to discontinue the search, and pass the night in the woods.
It was with a heavy heart that I consented to this; but we had no alternative. Afoot we could not possibly reach New Orleans before morning; and to have been found on the road after daybreak would have insured our capture. Such as we could not pass without observation; and I had no doubt that, at the earliest hour, a pursuing party would take the road to the city.
Our most prudent plan was to remain all night where we were, and renew our search for the horses as soon as it became day. If we should succeed in finding them, we might conceal them in the swamp till the following night, and then make for the city. If we should not recover them, then, by starting at an earlier hour, we might attempt the journey on foot.
The loss of the horses had placed us in an unexpected dilemma. It had seriously diminished our chances of escape, and increased the peril of our position.
Peril I have said, and in such we stood – peril of no trifling kind. You will with difficulty comprehend the nature of our situation. You will imagine yourself reading the account of some ordinary lover’s escapade – a mere runaway match, à la Gretna Green.
Rid yourself of this fancy. Know that all three of us had committed an act for which we were amenable. Know that my crime rendered me liable to certain and severe punishment by the laws of the land; that a still more terrible sentence might be feared outside the laws of the land. I knew all this – I knew that life itself was imperilled by the act I had committed!
Think of our danger, and it may enable you to form some idea of what were our feelings after returning from our bootless hunt after the horses.
We had no choice but stay where we were till morning.
We spent half-an-hour in dragging the tillandsia from the trees, and collecting the soft leaves of the pawpaws. With these I strewed the ground; and, placing Aurore upon it, I covered her with my cloak.
For myself I needed no couch. I sat down near my beloved, with my back against the trunk of a tree. I would fain have pillowed her head upon my breast, but the presence of D’Hauteville restrained me. Even that might not have hindered me, but the slight proposal which I made had been declined by Aurore. Even the hand that I had taken in mine was respectfully withdrawn!
I will confess that this coyness surprised and piqued me.
Chapter Sixty Eight
A Night in the Woods
Lightly clad as I was, the cold dews of the night would have prevented me from sleeping; but I needed not that to keep me awake. I could not have 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 for my declining his offer. Even had I been suffering, I could not have accepted it. I began to fear him!
Aurore was soon asleep. The lightning showed me that her eyes were closed, 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 as the quivering light illumined her lovely features, I gazed upon them with mingled feelings of passion and pain. Oh! could there be falsehood under that fair face? Could sin exist in that noble soul? After all was 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 the sacrifice both of heart and life. I thought only of the purpose that had brought us there.
As my mind became calmer, I again reflected on the means of carrying it out. 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, and then 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 a contingency.
At length an idea suggested itself – a plan so feasible that I could not help communicating it to D’Hauteville, who like myself was awake. The plan was simple enough, and I only wondered I had not thought of it sooner. It was that he (D’Hauteville) should proceed to Bringiers, procure other horses or a carriage there, and at an early hour of the following night meet us on the Levee Road.
What could be better than this? There would be no difficulty in his obtaining the horses at Bringiers – the carriage more likely. D’Hauteville was not known – at least no one would suspect his having any relations with me. I was satisfied that the disappearance of the quadroon would be at once attributed to me. Gayarre himself would know that; and therefore I alone would be suspected and sought after. D’Hauteville agreed with me that this would be the very plan to proceed upon, in case our horses could not be found; and having settled the details, we awaited with less apprehension for the approach of day.
Day broke at length. The grey light slowly struggled through the shadowy tree-tops, until it became clear enough to enable us to renew the search.
Aurore remained upon the ground; while D’Hauteville and I, taking different directions set out after the horses.
D’Hauteville went farther into the woods, while I took the opposite route.
I soon arrived at the zigzag fence bounding the fields of Gayarre; for we were still upon the very borders of his plantation. On reaching this, I turned along its edge, and kept on for the point where the bye-road entered the woods. It was by this we had come in on the previous night, and I thought it probable the horses might have taken it into their heads to stray back the same way.
I was right in my conjecture. As soon as I entered the embouchure of the road, I espied the hoof-tracks of both animals going out towards the river. I saw also those we had made on the previous night coming in. I compared them. The tracks leading both ways were made by the same horses. One had a broken shoe, which enabled me at a glance to tell they were the same. I noted another “sign” upon the trail. I noted that our horses in passing out dragged their bridles, with branches adhering to them. This confirmed the original supposition, that they had broken loose.
It was now a question of how far they had gone. Should I follow and endeavour to overtake them? It was now bright daylight, and the risk would be great. Long before this, Gayarre and his friends would be up and on the alert. No doubt parties were already traversing the Levee Road as well as the bye-paths among the plantations. At every step I might expect to meet either a scout or a pursuer.
The tracks of the horses showed they had been travelling rapidly and straight onward. They had not stopped to browse. Likely they had gone direct to the Levee Road, and turned back to the city. They were livery horses, and no doubt knew the road well. Besides, they were of the Mexican breed – “mustangs.” With these lively animals the trick of returning over a day’s journey without their riders is not uncommon.
To attempt to overtake them seemed hopeless as well as perilous, and I at once gave up the idea and turned back into the woods. As I approached the pawpaw thicket, I walked with lighter tread. I am ashamed 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 my further approach among the pawpaws with the silence of a thief.
“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!
There was no mistaking that prolonged and deep-toned note. I was too fond a disciple of Saint Hubert not to recognise the bay of a long-eared Molossian. Though distant and low, like the hum of a forest bee, I was not deceived in the sound. It fell upon my ears with a terrible import!
And why terrible was the baying of a hound? To me above all others, whose ears, attuned to the “tally ho!” and the “view hilloa!” regarded these sounds as the sweetest of music? Why terrible? Ah! you must think of the circumstances in which I was placed – you must think, too, of the hours I spent with the snake-charmer – of the tales he told me in that dark tree-cave – the stories of runaways, of sleuth-dogs, of man-hunters, and “nigger-hunts,” – practices long thought to be confined to Cuba, but which I found as rife upon the soil of Louisiana, – you must think of all these, and then you will understand why I trembled at the distant baying of a hound.
The howl I heard was still very distant. It came from the direction of Gayarre’s house. It broke forth at intervals. It was not like the utterance of a hound upon the trail, but that of dogs just cleared from the kennel, and giving tongue to their joy at the prospect of sport.
Fearful apprehensions were stirred within me at the moment. A terrible conjecture rushed across my brain. They were after us with hounds!