"In less than an hour, if she comes at her usual time. Our confab is over. You had best go and seek your mate. I'll make my apologies to him, if he needs 'em, for keeping you so long."
If Basil had known, he had not far to go to find Newman Chaytor, for that worthy was quite close to him. Being of an inquiring mind Chaytor had resolved to hear all that passed between Basil and Old Corrie, and had found a secure hiding-place in the rear, and well within earshot, of the two friends. He stored it all up, being blessed with an exceptionally retentive memory. Old Corrie went one way, and Basil went another, and Chaytor emerged from his hiding-place. "I am quite curious about little Annette," he said to himself, as he followed Basil at a safe distance. "Quite a sentimental little body--and an heiress, too! Well, we shall see. Say that my friend Basil's future is a nut--I'll crack it; I may find a sweet kernel inside."
He came up to Basil, and greeted him with a frank smile. "We've been talking about the plantation," said Basil, "and poor Anthony Bidaud's daughter, Annette. She is coming this afternoon to see me. I'll tell you everything by-and-by."
"I don't want to intrude upon your private affairs, Basil," said Chaytor.
"You have a right to know," said Basil. "I have no secrets from you, Chaytor."
Then they talked of other matters, Chaytor with animation, Basil with a mind occupied by thoughts of Annette. "I see," said Chaytor, patting Basil's shoulder with false kindness, "that you are thinking of the little maid. Now I'm not going to play the churl. Don't mind me for the rest of the day."
"You're a good fellow," said Basil, as Chaytor walked away; but he did not walk far. Unobserved by Basil, he kept secret watch upon him, determined to see Annette, determined to hear what she and Basil had to say to each other. As Old Corrie had said, "there are cases in which honesty is no match for roguery." Basil posted himself in such a position that he could see any person who came towards the wood from Bidaud's plantation. He heard the thud of Old Corrie's axe in the forest; the honest woodman could have remained idle had he chosen, but he was unhappy unless he was at work, and though he desired no profit from it he felled and split trees for the pleasure of the thing. Now and again there came to Basil's ears the piping and chattering of gorgeous-coloured birds as they fluttered hither and thither, busy on their own concerns, love-making, nest-mending, and the like; in their commonwealth many touches of human passion and sentiment found a reflex. Vanity was there, jealousy was there, hectoring and bullying of the weak was there, and much sly pilfering went on; entertainments, too, were being given, for at some distance from the three men in the woods, one swinging his axe with a will and wiping his cheerful brows, another with his heart in his eyes watching for a little figure in the distance, and the third, stirred by none but evil thoughts, watching with cunning eyes the watcher--at some distance from these two honest men and one rogue were assembled some couple of dozen feathered songsters in green and yellow coats. They perched upon convenient boughs and branches, forming a circle, with invisible music books before them, and at a given signal from their leader they began to pipe their songs without words, and filled space with melody. Their music may be likened to the faintly sweet echoes of skilled bell-ringers, each tiny bird the master of a note which was never piped unless in harmony. It was while these fairy bells were pealing their sweetest chord that Basil saw Annette approaching. He ran towards her eagerly, and called her name; and she with a sudden flush in her face and with her heart palpitating with joy, cried, "Basil! Basil!" and fell into his arms.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
He led her to a secluded spot, followed secretly by fox Chaytor. They passed close to where Old Corrie was working, and he, hearing footsteps--be sure, however, that Chaytor's were noiseless--laid down his axe, and went towards them.
"He has come--he has come!" cried Annette.