The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

  BIDDING FOR MY BETROTHED.

  Yes, Aurore appeared in the doorway of that infernal hall, and stoodtimidly pausing upon its threshold.

  She was not alone. A mulatto girl was by her side--like herself aslave--like herself brought there _to be sold_!

  A third individual was of the party, or rather with it; for he did notwalk by the side of the girls, but in front, evidently conducting themto the place of sale. This individual was no other than Larkin, thebrutal overseer.

  "Come along!" said he, roughly, at the same time beckoning to Aurore andher companion: "this way, gals--foller me!"

  They obeyed his rude signal, and, passing in, followed him across thehall towards the rostrum.

  I stood with slouched hat and averted face. Aurore saw me not.

  As soon as they were fairly past, and their backs towards me, my eyesfollowed them. Oh, beautiful Aurore!--beautiful as ever!

  I was not single in my admiration. The appearance of the Quadrooncreated a sensation. The din ceased as if by a signal; every voicebecame hushed, and every eye was bent upon her as she moved across thefloor. Men hurried forward from distant parts of the hall to get anearer glance; others made way for her, stepping politely back as if shehad been a queen. Men did this who would have scorned to offerpoliteness to another of her race--to the "yellow girl" for instance,who walked by her side! Oh, the power of beauty! Never was it moremarkedly shown than in the _entree_ of that poor slave.

  I heard the whispers, I observed the glances of admiration, of passion.I marked the longing eyes that followed her, noting her splendid formand its undulating outlines as she moved forward.

  All this gave me pain. It was a feeling worse than mere jealousy Iexperienced. It was jealousy embittered by the very brutality of myrivals.

  Aurore was simply attired. There was no affectation of the fine lady--none of the ribbons and flounces that bedecked the dresses of herdarker-skinned companion. Such would have ill assorted with the noblemelancholy that appeared upon her beautiful countenance. None of allthis.

  A robe of light-coloured muslin, tastefully made, with long skirt andtight sleeves--as was the fashion of the time--a fashion that displayedthe pleasing rotundity of her figure. Her head-dress was that worn byall quadroons--the "toque" of the Madras kerchief, which sat upon herbrow like a coronet, its green, crimson, and yellow checks contrastingfinely with the raven blackness of her hair. She wore no ornamentsexcepting the broad gold rings that glittered against the rich glow ofher cheeks; and upon her finger one other circlet of gold--the token ofher betrothal. I knew it well.

  I buried myself in the crowd, slouching my hat on that side towards therostrum. I desired she should not see me, while I could not help gazingupon her. I had taken my stand in such a situation, that I could stillcommand a view of the entrance. More than ever was I anxious about thecoming of D'Hauteville.

  Aurore had been placed near the foot of the rostrum. I could just seethe edge of her turban over the shoulders of the crowd. By elevatingmyself on my toes, I could observe her face, which by chance was turnedtowards me. Oh! how my heart heaved as I struggled to read itsexpression--as I endeavoured to divine the subject of her thoughts!

  She looked sad and anxious. That was natural enough. But I looked foranother expression--that unquiet anxiety produced by the alternation ofhope and fear.

  Her eye wandered over the crowd. She scanned the sea of faces thatsurrounded her. _She was searching for some one. Was it for me_?

  I held down my face as her glance passed over the spot. I dared notmeet her gaze. I feared that I could not restrain myself fromaddressing her. Sweet Aurore!

  I again looked up. Her eye was still wandering in fruitless search--oh!surely it is for me!

  Again I cowered behind the crowd, and her glance was carried onward.

  I raised myself once more. I saw the shadow darkening upon her face.Her eye filled with a deeper expression--it was the look of despair.

  "Courage! courage!" I whispered to myself. "Look again, lovely Aurore!This time I shall meet you. I shall speak to you from mine eyes--Ishall give back glance for glance--"

  "She sees--she recognises me! That start--the flash of joy in hereyes--the smile curling upon her lips! Her glance wanders no more--hergaze is fixed--proud heart! It _was_ for me!"

  Yes, our eyes met at length--met, melting and swimming with love. Minehad escaped from my control. For some moments I could not turn themaside, but surrendered them to the impulse of my passion. It wasmutual. I doubted it not. I felt as though the ray of love-light waspassing between us. I had almost forgotten where I stood!

  A murmur from the crowd, and a movement, restored me to my senses. Herstedfast gaze had been noticed, and by many--skilled to interpret suchglances--had been understood. These, in turning round to see who wasthe object of that glance, had caused the movement. I had observed itin time, and turned my face in another direction.

  I watched the entrance for D'Hauteville. Why had he not arrived? Myanxiety increased with the minutes.

  True, it would still be an hour--perhaps two--before her time shouldcome.--Ha!--what?

  There was silence for a moment--something of interest was going on. Ilooked towards the rostrum for an explanation. A dark man had climbedupon one of the steps, and was whispering to the auctioneer.

  He remained but a moment. He appeared to have asked some favour, whichwas at once conceded him, and he stepped back to his place among thecrowd.

  A minute or two intervened, and then, to my horror and astonishment, Isaw the overseer take Aurore by the arm, and raise her upon the block!The intention was plain. _She was to be sold next_!

  In the moments that followed, I cannot remember exactly how I acted. Iran wildly for the entrance. I looked out into the street. Up and downI glanced with anxious eyes. No D'Hauteville!

  I rushed back into the hall--again through the outer circles of thecrowd, in the direction of the rostrum.

  The bidding had begun. I had not heard the preliminaries, but as Ire-entered there fell upon my ears the terrible words--

  "_A thousand dollars for the Quadroon_.--_A thousand dollars bid_!"

  "O Heaven! D'Hauteville has deceived me. She is lost!--lost!"

  In my desperation I was about to interrupt the sale. I was about toproclaim aloud its unfairness, in the fact that the Quadroon had been_taken out of the order advertised_! Even on this poor plea I rested ahope.

  It was the straw to the drowning man, but I was determined to grasp it.

  I had opened my lips to call out, when some one pulling me by the sleevecaused me to turn round. It was D'Hauteville! Thank Heaven, it wasD'Hauteville!

  I could scarce restrain myself from shouting with joy. His look told methat he was the bearer of bright gold.

  "In time, and none to spare," whispered he, thrusting a pocket-bookbetween my fingers; "there is three thousand dollars--that will surelybe enough; 'tis all I have been able to procure. I cannot stay here--there are those I do not wish to see. I shall meet you after the saleis over. Adieu!"

  I scarce thanked him. I saw not his parting. My eyes were elsewhere.

  "Fifteen hundred dollars bid for the Quadroon!--good housekeeper--sempstress--fifteen hundred dollars!"

  "_Two thousand_!" I called out, my voice husky with emotion. Thesudden leap over such a large sum drew the attention of the crowd uponme. Looks, smiles, and innuendoes were freely exchanged at my expense.

  I saw, or rather heeded them not. I saw Aurore, only Aurore, standingupon the dais like a statue upon its pedestal--the type of sadness andbeauty. The sooner I could take her thence, the happier for me; andwith that object in view I had made my "bid."

  "Two thousand dollars bid--two thousand--twenty-one hundred dollars--twothousand, one, two--twenty-two hundred dollars bid--twenty-two--"

  "Twenty-five hundred dollars!" I again cried out, in as firm a voice asI could comman
d.

  "Twenty-five hundred dollars," repeated the auctioneer, in hismonotonous drawl; "twenty-five--six--you, sir? thank you! twenty-sixhundred dollars for the Quadroon--twenty-six hundred!"

  "Oh God! they will go above three thousand; if they do--"

  "Twenty-seven hundred dollars!" bid the fop Marigny.

  "Twenty-eight hundred!" from the old Marquis.

  "Twenty-eight hundred and fifty!" assented the young merchant, Moreau.

  "Nine!" nodded the tall dark man who had whispered to the auctioneer.

  Twenty-nine hundred dollars bid--two thousand nine hundred.

  "Three thousand!" I gasped out in despair.

  It was my last bid. I could go no farther.

  I waited for the result, as the condemned waits for the falling of thetrap or the descent of the axe. My heart could not have endured verylong that terrible suspense. But I had not long to endure it.

  "_Three thousand one hundred dollars_!--three thousand one hundred bid--thirty-one hundred dollars--"

  I cast one look upon Aurore. It was a look of hopeless despair; andturning away, I staggered mechanically across the hall.

  Before I had reached the entrance I could hear the voice of theauctioneer, in the same prolonged drawl, calling out, "Three thousandfive hundred bid for the Quadroon girl?"

  I halted and listened. The sale was coming to its close.

  "Three thousand five hundred--going at three thousand five hundred--going--going--"

  The sharp stroke of the hammer fell upon my ear. It drowned the finalword "gone!" but my heart pronounced that word in the emphasis of itsagony.

  There was a noisy scene of confusion, loud words and high excitementamong the crowd of disappointed bidders. Who was the fortunate one?

  I leant over to ascertain. The tall dark man was in conversation withthe auctioneer. Aurore stood beside him. I now remembered having seenthe man on the boat. He was the agent of whom D'Hauteville had spoken.The Creole had guessed aright, and so, too, had Le Ber.

  _Gayarre had outbid them all_!