The voices of several men were to be heard in the vestibule below, and at the same time hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs. Toby rushed breathless into the room.
"Oh, massa, massa, the dreadful day has come at last! Mr. Craig is below with the sheriffs; he has come to take possession of the estate—of all!"
"Already?" exclaimed Gerald Leslie; "then we are lost."
The agitation of the morning had been too much for the Octoroon; the last shock completely prostrated her, and she sunk, fainting, into her father's arms.
"My daughter!" cried Gerald; "my child—Toby, the one you nursed—is there no escape, no way to save her?"
The mulatto wrung his hands in silent anguish; then with a gleam of hope illumining his dusky face, exclaimed,—
"Stay, massa; the garden below this communicates with the plantation; if we could reach that they could never find us. They are all below in the vestibule—wait, wait!"
He rushed from the room, leaving Gerald Leslie in utter bewilderment as to what he was about to do; but in three minutes he appeared at the open window of the apartment, standing at the top of a ladder.
"See, massa," he cried, "we will save her yet. Give her into Toby's arms, and he will save her, though his own life pays the price of her liberty."
It was too late. As the faithful mulatto stretched forth his arms to receive the prostrate form of the unconscious girl, a harsh voice in the garden below exclaimed—