re."

"To become _my master_--_to_--_to buy me_!"

Here the poor girl hung her head, as if ashamed to speak of such
conditions. I saw the hot tears springing from her eyes.

"And why do you fear." I inquired.

"Others have tried. Large sums they offered--larger even than that you
have named, and they could not. They failed in their intentions, and
oh! how grateful was I to Mademoiselle! That was my only protection.
She would not part with me. How glad was I then! but now--now how
different!--the very opposite!"

"But I shall give more--my whole fortune. Surely that will suffice.
The offers you speak of were infamous proposals, like that of Monsieur
Gayarre. Mademoiselle knew it; she was too good to accept them."

"That is true, but she will equally refuse yours. I fear it, alas!
alas!"

"Nay, I shall confess all to Mademoiselle. I shall declare to her my
honourable design. I shall implore her consent. Surely she will not
refuse. Surely she feels gratitude--"

"Oh, Monsieur!" cried Aurore, interrupting me, "she _is_ grateful--you
know not how grateful; but never, never will she--You know not all--
alas! alas!"

With a fresh burst of tears filling her eyes, the beautiful girl sank
down on the sofa, hiding her face under the folds of her luxuriant hair.

I was puzzled by these expressions, and about to ask for an explanation,
when the noise of carriage-wheels fell upon my ear. I sprang forward to
the open window, and looked over the tops of the orange-trees. I could
just see the head of a man, whom I recognised as the coachman of
Mademoiselle Besancon. The carriage was approaching the gate.

In the then tumult of my feelings I could not trust myself to meet the
lady, and, bidding a hurried adieu to Aurore, I rushed from the
apartment.

When outside I saw that, if I went by the front gate I should risk an
encounter. I knew there was a small side-wicket that led to the
stables, and a road ran thence to the woods. This would carry me to
Bringiers by a back way, and stepping off from the verandah, I passed
through the wicket, and directed myself towards the stables in the rear.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE "NIGGER QUARTER."

I soon reached the stables, where I was welcomed by a low whimper from
my horse. Scipio was not there.

"He is gone upon some other business," thought I; "perhaps to meet the
carriage. No matter, I shall not summon him. The saddle is on, and I
can bridle the steed