AUGUSTUS HORTON TRIES TO AVENGE HIMSELF.
Upon the day following that on which the events occurred which we have
described in the foregoing chapter, the Selma steamer started from New
Orleans, laden with gay and fashionable company.
It was nine o'clock in the morning when the bell rang for the starting
of the vessel--a gorgeous summer's day, the sky blue and cloudless, the
Mississippi dancing in the sunshine.
Amongst the passengers on board the boat were Augustus Horton, his
sister Adelaide, Mrs. Montresor, Silas Craig, and William Bowen.
This latter personage had exchanged his ragged skin-jacket and patched
cotton shirt for a costume which aped that worn by the fops of New
Orleans.
He followed close at the heels of Silas Craig, to the evident annoyance
of the lawyer, who seemed, however, unable to shake him off.
Augustus and his party were bound for Hortonville, the plantation and
villa of which we have already spoken, and which was situated upon the
banks of the river, some miles beyond that belonging to Silas Craig.
The attorney was also bound for his plantation, whither he was taking
William Bowen, who was henceforth to act as his overseer.
Augustus Horton was elated at the success of his villainous plot. He
had lodged the only rival whom he feared in a felon's jail; he felt
that Camillia Moraquitos might now be easily won; but his heart--if the
profligate who yields only to the dictates of passion can be said to
have a heart--was full of the image of Cora the Octoroon.
Just as the boat was about pushing off, two young men stepped on
board. The first was Mortimer Percy, the second Gilbert Margrave, the
young engineer and artist, who carried a sketch-book under his arm. He
saluted Augustus and his sister with a grave bow of recognition.
"So! Gilbert," said Mortimer, "you come armed with your pencils and
sketch-book, in order, I suppose, to catch some of the beauties of the
Mississippi banks as we glide past them."
"To tell you the truth, my dear Mortimer, I have far graver reason for
being here. I come to meet some one."
"A lady?"
"Yes."
"And her name is--?"
"Miss Cora Leslie."
"Good Heavens, my dear Gilbert, are you in earnest? You know this
girl's history?"
"I do; and in my eyes that very history renders her even more sacred
than a defenseless woman must ever be to the mind of an honorable man.
I received a message this morning from Mr. Leslie's old slave, Toby,
informing me that his young mistress is to come on board the boat at
the first station, and begging me to be there to meet her, as she might
have need of my services."
"And you took the hint?"
"Gladly--proudly."
"My dear Gilbert, I'm afraid you're very far gone," exclaimed Mortimer,
laughing.
Adelaide Horton's heart sank as she received the young engineer's cold
salutation. She felt that he despised both herself and her brother for
their conduct to Cora. Mrs. Montresor and Adelaide soon withdrew to the
saloon, for the sight of Gilbert Margrave was painful to the impetuous
girl.
The scene on board the Selma was a gay and animated one. In the centre
of the deck a German band was stationed, and every now and then some
sprightly waltz or polka sounded on the summer air.
Close against one of the paddle boxes a group of eager gamblers had
seated themselves round a card-table, and it was amongst these that
Mr. William Bowen planted himself, while Silas Craig conversed in an
undertone with Augustus Horton.
Gilbert Margrave and Mortimer Percy stood near the side of the vessel
talking on indifferent subjects.
Presently the bell rang again, and the steamer stopped at the first
station, which was situated at a short distance from Gerald Leslie's
plantation.
"Miss Leslie knows nothing as yet of the fatal truth," said Gilbert. "I
tremble lest she should ever learn it."
"Then tremble for her to-day on board this steamer," replied Mortimer,
"these people know all, and they are pitiless."
"I shall be here to protect her, at the worst; but tell me have you any
idea how it was that this mulatto Toby applied to me above all people?"
"The instincts of the despised race are strong," answered Mortimer;
"he knew, no doubt, that you felt no uncommon interest in his young
mistress. See, is not that Miss Leslie yonder, amongst the passengers,
dressed in black?"
"It is; she is coming this way with Toby."
"I will leave you, then, my dear Gilbert," said Mortimer, and pressing
his friend's hand, he strolled into the saloon.
Cora Leslie was pale as a lily. Her black robes seemed to increase this
almost unearthly pallor, but they could not take from her beauty. She
advanced slowly, looking about her with a glance of terror, while the
faithful mulatto followed close at her side. Presently she perceived
Gilbert Margrave, who silently awaited her coming.
The crimson blush which suddenly dyed her cheek revealed how little she
had expected this meeting.
"Mr. Margrave," she exclaimed.
"Pardon me, Miss Leslie," replied the young engineer, "if I have
ventured to make myself, without your permission, your companion upon
this journey--but the hope that I might be able to render you some
service has induced me even to brave your displeasure."
Cora looked earnestly at Toby; the faithful creature's eyelids fell
beneath that searching gaze. "Ah, Mr. Margrave," she said, "it was Toby
who told you of this journey?"
"Forgive me, dear young mistress," exclaimed the mulatto; "I thought
that I was doing right."
"I am deeply affected with this proof of your kindness, Mr. Margrave,"
said Cora; "but I regret that Toby's indiscretion should have imposed
upon you a task which will, as I believe, be useless."
"However that may be, Miss Leslie, it is a task which I accept with
pride and joy."
At this moment the little group was approached by the captain of the
Selma, whose sharp eyes had espied the dark skin of Toby amongst his
aristocratic passengers.
"Hello! what are you doing here, nigger?" he exclaimed; "don't you know
your place is at the other end of the vessel?"
The mulatto retired without a word, but not without a push from the
indignant captain.
"Poor Toby," murmured Cora, as she followed with her eyes the faithful
slave.
"You see, Miss Leslie," said Gilbert, "the company of Toby would have
been no protection to you."
"I should have gone with him, Mr. Margrave. Is not my place his? Am I
not an Octoroon?"
"You know all, then?"
"Yes. Alas! I see that it was only I who was ignorant."
"A chance word from Mr. Percy revealed the secret to me, Miss Leslie,
upon that very night when first I saw you."
"Oh, Mr. Margrave, I do not seek to deny my origin. See, I wear
mourning for my mother, and my journey of to-day is a pilgrimage to her
grave."
A couple of chairs near Gilbert Margrave were unoccupied; one of these
he offered to Cora, and, taking the other, seated himself by her side.
A noisy laugh from a group on deck at this moment arrested their
attention.
This group was composed of Silas Craig, William Bowen, and two or three
other passengers, all gathered round Augustus Horton, who was reading
a paragraph aloud from a New Orleans newspaper. The following were the
words which greeted Cora's ears--
"The conduct of Mr. Leslie in daring to foist the child of one of his
slaves upon the highest circles of society, merits the punishment
with which he has met. The citizens of New Orleans have shown their
indignation at his offense, by abandoning all communication with him.
Gerald Leslie walks the streets, of his native city a stranger and a
ruined man."
"Oh, this is infamous," exclaimed Gilbert Margrave; "that man knows
that you are here and he reads that paragraph on purpose to insult you.
I will not endure it."
He was about to rush forward toward Augustus Horton, but Cora caught
his arm in her slender hands and arrested his steps.
"For pity's sake," she cried; "for my sake, Mr. Margrave, not one word!
The sting of the insult will be lost if unnoticed. Let him think those
cruel words are unheard."
It was indeed as Gilbert Margrave had supposed. Augustus knew of Cora's
presence in the boat--he had seen her with Gilbert by her side, and he
was determined to be revenged upon her for the contempt with which she
had treated him.
This was the planter's love. The love of the profligate who seeks to
humiliate his victim in order that he may subdue her.