gh not much,
property. She lives in the city. It is likely that Mademoiselle will
live with her in future. I believe the aunt has no children of her own,
and Eugenie will inherit. This, however, I cannot vouch for. I know it
only as a rumour."

Reigart spoke these words in a cautious and reserved manner. I noticed
something peculiar in the tone in which he uttered them; but I knew his
reason for being cautious. He was under a mistaken impression as to the
feelings with which I regarded Eugenie! I did not undeceive him.

"Poor Eugenie! a double sorrow,--no wonder at the change I had observed
of late,--no wonder she appeared sad!"

All this was but my own silent reflections.

"Doctor!" said I, elevating my voice; "I must go to the plantation."

"Not to-night!"

"To-night,--now!"

"My dear Mr E., you must not."

"Why?"

"It is impossible,--I cannot permit it,--you will have a fever; it may
cost you your life!"

"But--"

"I cannot hear you. I assure you, you are now on the verge of a fever.
You must remain in your room--at least, until to-morrow. Perhaps then
you may go out with safety. Now it is impossible."

I was compelled to acquiesce, though I am not certain but that had I
taken my own way it would have been better for my "fever." Within me
was a _cause of fever_ much stronger than any exposure to the night air.
My throbbing heart and wildly-coursing blood soon acted upon my brain.

"Aurore the slave of Gayarre! Ha! ha! ha! His slave! Gayarre!
Aurore! ha! ha! ha! Is it his throat I clutch? ha, no! It is the
serpent! here--help--help! Water! water! I am choking. No, Gayarre
is! I have him now! Again it is the serpent! O God! it coils around
my throat--it strangles me! Help! Aurore! lovely Aurore! do not yield
to him!"

"I will die rather than yield!"

"I thought so, noble girl! I come to release you! How she struggles in
his grasp! Fiend! off--off, fiend! Aurore, you are free--free! Angels
of heaven!"

Such was my dream,--the dream of a fevered brain.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

THE LETTER.

During all the night my sleep was broken at intervals, and the hours
divided between dreaming and half delirium.

I awoke in the morning not much refreshed with my night's rest. I lay
for some time passing over in my mind the occurrences of yesterday, and
considering what course I should pursue.

After a time I determined upon going direct to the plantation, and
learning for