Scipio’s observation had not only roused my curiosity, but had imparted to me a vague feeling of uneasiness. It is needless to say that I was now deeply interested in this young Creole. A man who has saved a life—the life of a beautiful woman—and under such peculiar circumstances, could not well be indifferent to the after-fate of her he has rescued.
Was it a lover’s interest that had been awakened within me?
My heart answered, No! To my own astonishment, it gave this answer. On the boat I had fancied myself half in love with this young lady; and now, after a romantic incident—one that might appear a very provocative to the sublime passion—I lay on my couch contemplating the whole affair with a coolness that surprised even myself! I felt that I had lost much blood—had my incipient passion flowed out of my veins at the same time?
I endeavoured to find some explanation for this rare psychological fact; but at that time I was but an indifferent student of the mind. The land of love was to me a terre inconnue.
One thing was odd enough. Whenever I essayed to recall the features of the Creole, the dream-face rose up before me more palpable than ever!
“Strange!” thought I, “this lovely vision! this dream of my diseased brain! Oh! what would I not give to embody this fair spectral form!”
I had no longer a doubt about it. I was certain I did not love Mademoiselle Besançon, and yet I was far from feeling indifferent towards her. Friendship was the feeling that now actuated me. The interest, I felt for her was that of a friend. Strong enough was it to render me anxious on her account—to make me desirous of knowing more both of herself and her affairs.
Scipio was not of secretive habit; and in less than half an hour I was the confidant of all he knew.
Eugénie Besançon was the daughter and only child of a Creole planter, who had died some two years before, as some thought wealthy, while others believed that his affairs were embarrassed. Monsieur Dominique Gayarre had been left joint-administrator of the estate with the steward Antoine, both being “guardiums” (sic Scipio) of the young lady. Gayarre had been the lawyer of Besançon, and Antoine his faithful servitor. Hence the trust reposed in the old steward, who in latter years stood in the relation of friend and companion rather than of servant to Besançon himself.
In a few months mademoiselle would be of age; but whether her inheritance was large, Scipio could not tell. He only knew that since her father’s death, Monsieur Dominique, the principal executor, had furnished her with ample funds whenever called upon; that she had not been restricted in any way; that she was generous; that she was profuse in her expenditure, or, as Scipio described it, “berry wasteful, an flung about de shinin dollars as ef dey war donicks!”