ughter. But I was
alone. The pilot in his glass-box did not notice me. His back was
towards me, and his keen eye, bent steadily upon the water, was too busy
with logs and sand-bars, and snags and sawyers, to take note of my
delirium.

It _was_ Aurore! Of that I had no doubt whatever. Her face was not to
be mistaken for any other. There was none like it--none so lovely--
alas! too fatally fair.

Who could _he_ be? Some young spark of the town? Some clerk in one of
the stores? a young planter? who? Maybe--and with this thought came
that bitter pang--one of her own proscribed race--a young man of
"colour"--a mulatto--a quadroon--a slave! Ha! to be rivalled by a
slave!--worse than rivalled.--Infamous coquette! Why had I yielded to
her fascinations? Why had I mistaken her craft for _naivete_?--her
falsehood for truth?

Who could _he_ be? I should search the boat till I found him.
Unfortunately I had taken no marks, either of his face or his dress. My
eyes had remained fixed upon her after their parting. In the shadow I
had seen him only indistinctly; and as he passed under the lights I saw
him not. How preposterous then to think of looking for him! I could
not recognise him in such a crowd.

I went below, and wandered through the cabins, under the front awning,
and along the guard-ways. I scanned every face with an eagerness that
to some must have appeared impertinence. Wherever one was young and
handsome, he was an object of my scrutiny and jealousy. There were
several such among the male passengers; and I endeavoured to distinguish
those who had come aboard at Bringiers. There were some young men who
appeared as if they had lately shipped, themselves, but I had no clue to
guide me, and I failed to find my rival.

In the chagrin of disappointment I returned once more to the roof; but I
had hardly reached it, when a new thought came into my mind. I
remembered that the slaves of the plantation were to be sent down to the
city by the first boat. Were they not travelling by that very one? I
had seen a crowd of blacks--men, women, and children--hastily driven
aboard. I had paid but little heed to such a common spectacle--one that
may be witnessed daily, hourly. I had not thought of it, that those
might be the slaves of the plantation Besancon!

If they were, then indeed there might still be hope; Aurore had not gone
with them--but what of that? Though, like them, only a slave, it was
not probab