CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
AN HOUR OF BLISS.
Sweet is gratitude under any circumstances; how much sweeter whenexpressed in the eyes and uttered by the lips of those we love!
I re-entered the room, my heart swelling with delightful emotions.Gratitude was poured forth in, lavish yet graceful expressions. BeforeI could utter a word, or stretch out a hand to hinder, the beautifulgirl had glided across the room, and fallen into a kneeling posture atmy feet! Her thanks came from her heart.
"Rise, lovely Aurore!" said I, taking her unresisting hand, and leadingher 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 toprotect the poor slave. The chivalry, so much boasted here, extends notto _us_. We, in whose veins runs the accursed blood, are beyond thepale both of honour and protection. Ah me, noble stranger! you know notfor how much I am your debtor!"
"Call me not _stranger_, Aurore. It is true we have had but slightopportunity of conversing, but our acquaintance is old enough to renderthat title no longer applicable. I would you would speak to me by onemore _endearing_."
"Endearing! Monsieur, I do not understand you!"
Her large brown eyes were fixed upon me in a gaze of wonder, but theyalso interrogated me.
"Yes, endearing--I mean, Aurore--that you will not shun me--that youwill 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 andeducated! I--I--oh Heavens! what am I? A slave--a slave--whom men loveonly to _ruin_. O God!--why is my destiny so hard? O God!"
"Aurore!" I cried, gathering courage from her agony, "Aurore, listen tome! to me, your friend, your--"
She removed her hands that had been clasped across her face, and lookedup. Her swimming eyes were bent steadfastly upon mine, and regarded mewith a look of interrogation.
At that moment a train of thought crossed my mind. In words it wasthus: "How long may we be alone? We may be interrupted? So fair anopportunity may not offer again. There is no time to waste in idleconverse. I must at once to the object of my visit."
"Aurore!" I said, "it is the first time we have met alone. I havelonged for this interview. I have a word that can only be spoken to youalone."
"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 firsthour I beheld you--I might almost say before that hour, for you were inmy heart before I was conscious of having seen you--from, that firsthour I loved you--not with a villain's love, such as you have thismoment spurned, but with a pure and honest passion. And passion I maywell call it, for it absorbs every other feeling of my soul. Morningand night, Aurore, I think but of you. You are in my dreams, andequally the companion of my waking hours. Do not fancy my love so calm,because I am now speaking so calmly about it. Circumstances render meso. I have approached you with a determined purpose--one long resolvedupon--and that, perhaps, gives me this firmness in declaring my love. Ihave said, Aurore, that I love you. I repeat it again--_with my heartand 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 sympatheticinterjection had been meant for some third person rather than herself!
"Aurore," I continued, after a pause, "I have told you all. I have beencandid. I only ask equal candour in return. _Do you love me_?"
I should have put this question less calmly, but that I felt alreadyhalf-assured of the answer.
We were seated on the sofa, and near each other. Before I had finishedspeaking, I felt her soft fingers touch mine--close upon them, and pressthem gently together. When the question was delivered, her head fellforward on my breast, and I heard murmuring from her lips the simplewords--"_I too from the first hour_!"
My arms, hitherto restrained, were now twined around the yielding form,and for some moments neither uttered a word. Love's paroxysm is bestenjoyed in silence. The wild intoxicating kiss, the deep mutual glance,the pressure of hands and arms and burning lips, all these need notongue to make them intelligible. For long moments ejaculations ofdelight, phrases of tender endearment, were the only words that escapedus. We were too happy to converse. Our lips paid respect to thesolemnity of our hearts.
It was neither the place nor time for Love to go blind, and prudencesoon recalled me to myself. There was still much to be said, and manyplans to be discussed before our new-sprung happiness should be securedto us. Both were aware of the abyss that still yawned between us. Bothwere aware that a thorny path must be trodden before we could reach theelysium of our hopes. Notwithstanding our present bliss, the future wasdark and dangerous; and the thought of this soon startled us from ourshort sweet dream.
Aurora had no longer any _fear_ of my love. She did not even wrong mewith suspicion. She doubted not my purpose to make her my _wife_. Loveand gratitude stifled every doubt, and we now conversed with a mutualconfidence which years of friendship could scarce have established.
But we talked with hurried words. We knew not the moment we might beinterrupted. We knew not when again we might meet alone. We had needto be brief.
I explained to her my circumstances--that in a few days I expected a sumof money--enough, I believed, for the purpose. What purpose? _Thepurchase of my bride_!
"Then," added I, "nothing remains but to get married, Aurore!"
"Alas!" replied she with a sigh, "even were I free, we could not bemarried _here_. Is it not a wicked law that persecutes us even whenpretending to give us freedom?"
I assented.
"We could not get married," she continued, evidently suffering underpainful emotion, "we could not unless you could swear there was Africanblood in your veins! Only think of such a law in a Christian land!"
"Think _not_ of it, Aurore," said I, wishing to cheer her. "There shallbe no difficulty about swearing that. I shall take this gold pin fromyour hair, open this beautiful blue vein in your arm, drink from it, andtake the oath!"
The quadroon smiled, but the moment after her look of sadness returned.
"Come, dearest Aurore! chase away such thoughts! What care we to bemarried here? We shall go elsewhere. There are lands as fair asLouisiana, and churches as fine as Saint Gabriel to be married in. Weshall go northward--to England--to France--anywhere. Let not thatgrieve you!"
"It is not that which grieves me."
"What then, dearest?"
"Oh! It is--I fear--"
"Tear not to tell me."
"That you will not be able--"
"Declare it, Aurore."
"To become _my master_--_to_--_to buy me_!"
Here the poor girl hung her head, as if ashamed to speak of suchconditions. I saw the hot tears springing from her eyes.
"And why do you fear." I inquired.
"Others have tried. Large sums they offered--larger even than that youhave named, and they could not. They failed in their intentions, andoh! how grateful was I to Mademoiselle! That was my only protection.She would not part with me. How glad was I then! but now--now howdifferent!--the very opposite!"
"But I shall give more--my whole fortune. Surely that will suffice.The offers you speak of were infamous proposals, like that of MonsieurGayarre. Mademoiselle knew it; she was too good to accept them."
"That is true, but she will equally refuse yours. I fear it, alas!alas!"
"Nay, I shall confess all to Mademoiselle. I shall declare to her myhonourable design. I shall implore her consent. Surely she will notrefuse. Surely she feels gratitude--"
"Oh, Monsieur!" cried Aurore, interrupting me, "she _is_ grateful--youknow not how grateful; but never, never will she--You know not all--alas! alas!"
r /> With a fresh burst of tears filling her eyes, the beautiful girl sankdown on the sofa, hiding her face under the folds of her luxuriant hair.
I was puzzled by these expressions, and about to ask for an explanation,when the noise of carriage-wheels fell upon my ear. I sprang forward tothe open window, and looked over the tops of the orange-trees. I couldjust see the head of a man, whom I recognised as the coachman ofMademoiselle Besancon. The carriage was approaching the gate.
In the then tumult of my feelings I could not trust myself to meet thelady, and, bidding a hurried adieu to Aurore, I rushed from theapartment.
When outside I saw that, if I went by the front gate I should risk anencounter. I knew there was a small side-wicket that led to thestables, and a road ran thence to the woods. This would carry me toBringiers by a back way, and stepping off from the verandah, I passedthrough the wicket, and directed myself towards the stables in the rear.