I endeavoured to sketch out some plan of action. What should I say to Eugénie? what to Aurore? Would the former see me after what she had written? In her note she had said “farewell,” but it was not a time to stand upon punctilious ceremony. And if not, should I find an opportunity to speak with Aurore? I must see her. Who should prevent me? I had much to say to her; my heart was full. Nothing but an interview with my betrothed could relieve it.
Still without any definite plan, I once more turned my horse’s head down the river, used the spur, and galloped onward.
On arriving near the gate I was somewhat surprised to see two saddled horses standing there. I instantly recognised them as the horses I had passed on the road. They had overtaken me again while I was halted by the bend of the river, and had arrived at the gate before me. The saddles were now empty. The riders had gone into the house.
A black man was holding the horses. It was my old friend “Zip.”
I rode up, and without dismounting addressed myself to Scipio. Who were they who had gone in?
I was hardly surprised at the answer. My conjecture was right. They were men of the law,—the deputy sheriff of the parish and his assistant.
It was scarce necessary to inquire their business. I guessed that.
I only asked Scipio the details.
Briefly Scipio gave them; at least so far as I allowed him to proceed without interruption. A sheriff’s officer was in charge of the house and all its contents; Larkin still ruled the negro quarter, but the slaves were all to be sold; Gayarre was back and forward; and “Missa ’Génie am gone away.”
“Gone away! and whither?”