The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER FORTY.

  HOTEL GOSSIP.

  It was yet early when I entered the village. I glided stealthilythrough the streets, desirous to avoid observation. Unfortunately I hadto pass through the bar of the hotel in order to reach my room. It wasjust before the hour of supper, and the guests had assembled in the barsaloon and around the porch.

  My tattered habiliments, in places stained with blood, and profuselysoiled with mud, could not escape notice; nor did they. Men turned andgazed after me. Loiterers looked with eyes that expressed theirastonishment. Some in the portico, and others in the bar, hailed me asI passed, asking me where I had been to. One cried out: "Hillow,mister! you've had a tussle with the cats: hain't you?"

  I did not make reply. I pushed on up-stairs, and found relief in theprivacy of my chamber.

  I had been badly torn by the bushes. My wounds needed dressing. Idespatched a messenger for Reigart. Fortunately he was at home, and ina few minutes followed my messenger to the hotel. He entered my room,and stood staring at me with a look of surprise.

  "My dear R--, where have you been?" he inquired at length.

  "To the swamp."

  "And those wounds--your clothes torn--blood?"

  "Thorn-scratches--that's all."

  "But where have you been?"

  "In the swamp."

  "In the swamp! but how came you to get such a mauling?"

  "I have been bitten by a rattlesnake."

  "What! bitten by a rattlesnake? Do you speak seriously?"

  "Quite true it is--but I have taken the antidote. I am cured."

  "Antidote! Cured! And what cure? who gave you an antidote?"

  "A friend whom I met in the swamp!"

  "A friend in the swamp!" exclaimed Reigart, his astonishment increasing.

  I had almost forgotten the necessity of keeping my secret. I saw that Ihad spoken imprudently. Inquisitive eyes were peeping in at the door.Ears were listening to catch every sound.

  Although the inhabitant of the Mississippi is by no means of a curiousdisposition--_malgre_ the statements of gossiping tourists--theunexplained and forlorn appearance I presented on my return was enoughto excite a degree of interest even among the most apathetic people; anda number of the guests of the hotel had gathered in the lobby around thedoor of my chamber, and were eagerly asking each other what had happenedto me. I could overhear their conversation, though they did not knowit.

  "He's been fightin' a painter?" said one, interrogatively.

  "A painter or a bar," answered another.

  "'Twur some desprit varmint anyhow--it hez left its mark on him,--thatit hez."

  "It's the same fellow that laid out Bully Bill: ain't it?"

  "The same," replied some one.

  "English, ain't he?"

  "Don't know. He's a Britisher, I believe. English, Irish, or Scotch,he's a hull team an' a cross dog under the wagon. By God! he laid outBully Bill straight as a fence-rail, wi' nothin' but a bit o' a whup,and then tuk Bill's pistols away from him! Ha! ha! ha!"

  "Jehosophat!"

  "He's jest a feller to whip his weight in wild-cats. He's killed thecatamount, I reckon."

  "No doubt he's done that."

  I had supposed that my encounter with Bully Bill had made me enemiesamong his class. It was evident from the tone and tenor of theirconversation that such was not the case. Though, perhaps, a littlepiqued that a stranger--a mere youth as I then was--should haveconquered one of their bullies, these backwoodsmen are not intenselyclannish, and Bully Bill was no favourite. Had I "whipped" him on anyother grounds, I should have gained a positive popularity by the act.But in defence of a slave--and I a foreigner--a Britisher, too--that wasa presumption not to be pardoned. That was the drawback on my victory,and henceforth I was likely to be a "marked man" in the neighbourhood.

  These observations had served to amuse me while I was awaiting thearrival of Reigart, though, up to a certain point, I took but littleinterest in them. A remark that now reached my ears, however, suddenlychanged the nature of my thoughts. It was this:--

  "_He's after Miss Besancon, they say_."

  I was now interested. I stepped to the door, and, placing my ear closeto the keyhole, listened.

  "I guess he's arter _the plantation_," said another; and the remark wasfollowed by a significant laugh.

  "Well, then," rejoined a voice, in a more solemn and emphatic tone,"he's after what he won't get."

  "How? how?" demanded several.

  "He may get _thee_ lady, preehaps," continued the same voice, in thesame measured tones; "but not _thee_ plantation."

  "How? What do you mean, Mr Moxley?" again demanded the chorus ofvoices.

  "I mean what I say, gentlemen," replied the solemn speaker; and thenrepeated again his former words in a like measured drawl. "He may getthe lady, _pree_haps, but not _thee_ plantation."

  "Oh! the report's true, then?" said another voice, interrogatively."Insolvent? Eh? Old Gayarre--"

  "Owns _thee_ plantation."

  "And niggers?"

  "Every skin o' them; the sheriff will take possession to-morrow."

  A murmur of astonishment reached my ears. It was mingled withexpressions of disapprobation or sympathy.

  "Poor girl! it's a pity o' _her_!"

  "Well, it's no wonder. She made the money fly since the old 'un died."

  "Some say he didn't leave so much after all. 'Twar most part mortgagedbefore--"

  The entrance of the doctor interrupted this conversation, and relievedme for the moment from the torture which it was inflicting upon me.

  "A friend in the swamp, did you say?" again interrogated Reigart.

  I had hesitated to reply, thinking of the crowd by the door. I said tothe doctor in a low earnest voice--

  "My dear friend, I have met with an adventure; am badly scratched, asyou see. Dress my wounds, but do not press me for details. I have myreasons for being silent. You will one day learn all, but not now.Therefore--"

  "Enough, enough!" said the doctor, interrupting me; "do not be uneasy.Let me look at your scratches."

  The good doctor became silent, and proceeded to the dressing of mywounds.

  Under other circumstances the manipulation of my wounds, for they nowfelt painful, might have caused me annoyance. It did not then. What Ihad just heard had produced a feeling within that neutralised theexternal pain, and I felt it not.

  I was really in mental agony.

  I burned with impatience to question Reigart about the affairs of theplantation,--about Eugenie and Aurore. I could not,--we were not alone.The landlord of the hotel and a negro attendant had entered the room,and were assisting the doctor in his operations. I could not trustmyself to speak on such a subject in their presence. I was forced tonurse my impatience until all was over, and both landlord and servanthad left us.

  "Now, doctor, this news of Mademoiselle Besancon?"

  "Do _you_ not know all?"

  "Only what I have heard this moment from those gossips outside theroom."

  I detailed to Reigart the remarks that had been made.

  "Really I thought you must have been acquainted with the whole matter.I had fancied that to be the cause of your long absence to-day; though Idid not even conjecture how you might be engaged in the matter."

  "I know nothing more than what I have thus accidentally overheard. Forheaven's sake tell me all! Is it true?"

  "Substantially true, I grieve to say."

  "Poor Eugenie!"

  "The estate was heavily mortgaged to Gayarre. I have long suspectedthis, and fear there has been some foul play. Gayarre has foreclosedthe mortgage, and, indeed, it is said, is already in possession.Everything is now his."

  "Everything?"

  "Everything upon the plantation."

  "The slaves?"

  "Certainly."

  "All--all--and--and--Aurore?"

  I hesitated as I put the interrogatory, Reigart had no knowledge of myattachment to Aur
ore.

  "The quadroon girl, you mean?--of course, she with the others. She isbut a slave like the rest. She will be sold."

  "_But a slave! sold with the rest_!"

  This reflection was not uttered aloud.

  I cannot describe the tumult of my feelings as I listened. The bloodwas boiling within my veins, and I could scarce restrain myself fromsome wild expression. I strove to the utmost to hide my thoughts, butscarce succeeded; for I noticed that the usually cold eye of Reigart waskindled in surprise at my manner. If he divined my secret he wasgenerous, for he asked no explanation.

  "The slaves are all to be sold then?" I faltered out.

  "No doubt,--everything will be sold,--that is the law in such cases. Itis likely Gayarre will buy in the whole estate, as the plantation liescontiguous to his own."

  "Gayarre! villain! oh! And Mademoiselle Besancon, what will become ofher? Has she no friends?"

  "I have heard something of an aunt who has some, though not much,property. She lives in the city. It is likely that Mademoiselle willlive with her in future. I believe the aunt has no children of her own,and Eugenie will inherit. This, however, I cannot vouch for. I know itonly as a rumour."

  Reigart spoke these words in a cautious and reserved manner. I noticedsomething peculiar in the tone in which he uttered them; but I knew hisreason for being cautious. He was under a mistaken impression as to thefeelings with which I regarded Eugenie! I did not undeceive him.

  "Poor Eugenie! a double sorrow,--no wonder at the change I had observedof late,--no wonder she appeared sad!"

  All this was but my own silent reflections.

  "Doctor!" said I, elevating my voice; "I must go to the plantation."

  "Not to-night!"

  "To-night,--now!"

  "My dear Mr E., you must not."

  "Why?"

  "It is impossible,--I cannot permit it,--you will have a fever; it maycost you your life!"

  "But--"

  "I cannot hear you. I assure you, you are now on the verge of a fever.You must remain in your room--at least, until to-morrow. Perhaps thenyou may go out with safety. Now it is impossible."

  I was compelled to acquiesce, though I am not certain but that had Itaken my own way it would have been better for my "fever." Within mewas a _cause of fever_ much stronger than any exposure to the night air.My throbbing heart and wildly-coursing blood soon acted upon my brain.

  "Aurore the slave of Gayarre! Ha! ha! ha! His slave! Gayarre!Aurore! ha! ha! ha! Is it his throat I clutch? ha, no! It is theserpent! here--help--help! Water! water! I am choking. No, Gayarreis! I have him now! Again it is the serpent! O God! it coils aroundmy throat--it strangles me! Help! Aurore! lovely Aurore! do not yieldto him!"

  "I will die rather than yield!"

  "I thought so, noble girl! I come to release you! How she struggles inhis grasp! Fiend! off--off, fiend! Aurore, you are free--free! Angelsof heaven!"

  Such was my dream,--the dream of a fevered brain.