I had not much longer to remain on the wharf-boat. The hoarse barking
of a 'scape-pipe fell upon my ear and shortly after the fires of a
steamboat furnace appeared, glittering red upon the stream. Then was
heard the crashing plunging sound of the paddle-wheels as they beat the
brown water, and then the ringing of the bell, and the shouts of command
passing from captain to mate, and from mate to "deck hands," and in five
minutes after, the "Houma"--Red River-boat,--lay side by side with the
old "Sultana."
I stepped aboard, threw my luggage over the guard, and, climbing
up-stairs, seated myself under the awning.
Ten minutes of apparent confusion--the quick trampling of feet over the
decks and staging--half-a-dozen passengers hastening ashore--others
hurrying in the opposite direction--the screeching of the steam--the
rattling of huge fire-logs thrust endways up the furnace--at intervals
the loud words of command--a peal of laughter at some rude jest, or the
murmur of voices in the sadder accents of adieu. Ten minutes of these
sights and sounds, and again was heard the ringing of the large bell--
the signal that the boat was about to continue her course.
I had flung myself into a chair that stood beside one of the
awning-posts, and close to the guards. From my position I commanded a
view of the gangway, the staging-plank, and the contiguous wharf-boat,
which I had just left.
I was looking listlessly on what was passing below, taking note of
nothing in particular. If I had a special thought in my mind the
subject of it was not there, and the thought itself caused me to turn my
eyes away from the busy groups and bend them downward along the left
bank of the river. Perhaps a sigh was the concomitant of these
occasional glances; but in the intervals between, my mind dwelt upon
nothing in particular, and the forms that hurried to and fro impressed
me only as shadows.
This apathy was suddenly interrupted. My eyes, by pure accident, fell
upon two figures whose movements at once excited my attention. They
stood upon the deck of the wharf-boat--not near the stage-plank, where
the torch cast its glare over the hurrying passengers, but in a remote
corner under the shadow of the awning. I could see them only in an
obscure light,--in fact, could scarce make out their forms, shrouded as
they were in dark cloaks--but the attitudes in which they stood, the
fact of their keeping thus apart in the most obscure quarter of the
boat, the apparent earnestness with which they were conversing--all led
me to conjecture that they were lovers. My heart, guided by the sweet
instinct of love, at once accepted this explanation, and looked for no
other.
"Yes--lovers! how happy! No--perhaps not so happy--it is a _parting_!
Some youth who makes a trip down to the city--perhaps some young clerk
or merchant, who goes to spend his winter there. What of that? He will
return in spring, again to press those delicate fingers, again to fold
that fair form in his arms, again to speak those tender words that will
sound all the sweeter after the long interval of silence.
"Happy youth! happy girl! Light is the misery of a parting like yours!
How easy to endure when compared with that violent separation which I
have experienced! Aurore!--Aurore!--Would that you were free! Would
that you were some high-born dame! Not that I should love you the
more--impossible--but then might I boldly woo, and freely win. Then I
might hope--but now, alas! this horrid gulf--this social abyss that
yawns between us. Well! it cannot separate souls. Our love shall
bridge it--Ha!"
"Hilloa, Mister! What's gwine wrong? Anybody fell overboard!"
I heeded not the rude interrogatory. A deeper pang absorbed my soul,
forcing from me the wild exclamation that had given the speaker cause.
The two forms parted--with a mutual pressure of the hand, with a kiss
they parted! The young man hastened across the staging. I did not
observe his face, as he passed under the light. I had taken no notice
of _him_, my eyes by some strange fascination remaining fixed upon
_her_. I was curious to observe how _she_ would act in this final
moment of leave-taking.
The planks were drawn aboard. The signal-bell sounded. I could
perceive that we were moving away.
At this moment the shrouded form of the lady glided forward into the
light. She was advancing to catch a farewell glance of her lover. A
few steps brought her to the edge of the wharf-boat, where the torch was
glaring. Her hood-like gun-bonnet was thrown back. The light fell full
upon her face, glistened along the undulating masses of black hair that
shrouded her temples, and danced in her glorious eyes. Good God! they
were the eyes of _Aurore_!