ypress-trees, fit emblems of grief--rendered doubly lugubrious
in their expression by the hoary _tillandsia_, that draped them like a
couch of the dead. The sounds, too, that here saluted our ears had a
soothing effect; the melancholy "coowhoo-a" of the swamp-owl--the
creaking chirp of the tree-crickets and cicadas--the solemn "tong-tong"
of the bell-frog--the hoarse trumpet-note of the greater batrachian--and
high overhead the wild treble of the bull-bat, all mingled together in a
concert, that, however disagreeable under other circumstances, now fell
upon my ears like music, and even imparted a kind of sad pleasure to my
soul.

And yet it was not my darkest hour. A darker was yet in store for me.
Despite the very hopelessness of the prospect, I still clung to hope. A
vague feeling it was; but it sustained me against despair. The trunk of
a taxodium lay prostrate by the side of our path. Upon this we sat
down.

We had exchanged scarce a dozen words since emerging from the hell. I
was busy with thoughts of the morrow: my young companion, whom I now
regarded in the light of an old and tried friend, was thinking of the
same.

What generosity towards a stranger! what self-sacrifice! _Ah! little
did I then know of the vast extent_--_the noble grandeur of that
sacrifice_!

"There now remains but one chance," I said; "the chance that to-morrow's
mail, or rather to-day's, may bring my letter. It might still arrive in
time; the mail is due by ten o'clock in the morning."

"True," replied my companion, seemingly too busy with his own thoughts
to give much heed to what I had said.

"If not," I continued, "then there is only the hope that he who shall
become the purchaser, may afterwards sell her to _me_. I care not at
what price, if I--"

"Ah!" interrupted D'Hauteville, suddenly waking from his reverie; "it is
just that which troubles me--that is exactly what I have been thinking
upon. I fear, Monsieur, I fear--"

"Speak on!"

"I fear there is no hope that he who buys her will be willing to sell
her again."

"And why? Will not a large sum--?"

"No--no--I fear that he who buys will not give her up again, _at any
price_."

"Ha! Why do you think so, Monsieur D'Hauteville."

"I have my suspicion that a certain individual designs--"

"Who?"

"Monsieur Dominique Gayarre."

"Oh! heavens! Gayarre! Gayarre!"

"Yes; from what you have told me--from what I know myself--for I, too,
have some knowledge o