“The quadroon girl, you mean?—of course, she with the others. She is but 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 blood was boiling within my veins, and I could scarce restrain myself from some wild expression. I strove to the utmost to hide my thoughts, but scarce succeeded; for I noticed that the usually cold eye of Reigart was kindled in surprise at my manner. If he divined my secret he was generous, 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. It is likely Gayarre will buy in the whole estate, as the plantation lies contiguous to his own.”
“Gayarre! villain! oh! And Mademoiselle Besançon, what will become of her? 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 will live with her in future. I believe the aunt has no children of her own, and Eugénie will inherit. This, however, I cannot vouch for. I know it only as a rumour.”
Reigart spoke these words in a cautious and reserved manner. I noticed something peculiar in the tone in which he uttered them; but I knew his reason for being cautious. He was under a mistaken impression as to the feelings with which I regarded Eugénie! I did not undeceive him.
“Poor Eugénie! a double sorrow,—no wonder at the change I had observed of late,—no wonder she appeared sad!”