“Of course,” coolly replied my companion. “I love adventure. That gives me an interest. You must permit me to accompany you—I must go along with you!”
“As you will then, Monsieur D’Hauteville. Fear not. I shall act with prudence. Come on!”
I sprang over the fence, followed by my companion; and, without another word having passed between us, we struck across the field in the direction of the house.
Chapter Sixty Six.
The Elopement.
It was a field of sugar-cane. The canes were of that species known as “ratoons”—suckers from old roots—and the thick bunches at their bases, as well as the tall columns, enabled us to pass among them unobserved. Even had it been day, we might have approached the house unseen.
We soon reached the garden-paling. Here we stopped to reconnoitre the ground. A short survey was sufficient. We saw the very place where we could approach and conceal ourselves.
The house had an antique weather-beaten look—not without some pretensions to grandeur. It was a wooden building, two stories in height, with gable roofs, and large windows—all of which had Venetian shutters that opened to the outside. Both walls and window-shutters had once been painted, but the paint was old and rusty; and the colour of the Venetians, once green, could hardly be distinguished from the grey wood-work of the walls. All round the house ran an open gallery or verandah, raised some three or four feet from the ground. Upon this gallery the windows and doors opened, and a paling or guard-rail encompassed the whole. Opposite the doors, a stairway of half-a-dozen steps led up; but at all other parts the space underneath was open in front, so that, by stooping a little, one might get under the floor of the gallery.