waxing warmer in their eulogium of her beauty,
and beginning to lay wagers on the result of the sale, when all at once
the clack of their conversation ceased, and two or three cried out--

"_Voila! voila! elle vient_!"

I turned mechanically at the words. Aurore was in the entrance.

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

BIDDING FOR MY BETROTHED.

Yes, Aurore appeared in the doorway of that infernal hall, and stood
timidly pausing upon its threshold.

She was not alone. A mulatto girl was by her side--like herself a
slave--like herself brought there _to be sold_!

A third individual was of the party, or rather with it; for he did not
walk by the side of the girls, but in front, evidently conducting them
to the place of sale. This individual was no other than Larkin, the
brutal overseer.

"Come along!" said he, roughly, at the same time beckoning to Aurore and
her companion: "this way, gals--foller me!"

They obeyed his rude signal, and, passing in, followed him across the
hall towards the rostrum.

I stood with slouched hat and averted face. Aurore saw me not.

As soon as they were fairly past, and their backs towards me, my eyes
followed them. Oh, beautiful Aurore!--beautiful as ever!

I was not single in my admiration. The appearance of the Quadroon
created a sensation. The din ceased as if by a signal; every voice
became hushed, and every eye was bent upon her as she moved across the
floor. Men hurried forward from distant parts of the hall to get a
nearer glance; others made way for her, stepping politely back as if she
had been a queen. Men did this who would have scorned to offer
politeness to another of her race--to the "yellow girl" for instance,
who walked by her side! Oh, the power of beauty! Never was it more
markedly shown than in the _entree_ of that poor slave.

I heard the whispers, I observed the glances of admiration, of passion.
I marked the longing eyes that followed her, noting her splendid form
and its undulating outlines as she moved forward.

All this gave me pain. It was a feeling worse than mere jealousy I
experienced. It was jealousy embittered by the very brutality of my
rivals.

Aurore was simply attired. There was no affectation of the fine lady--
none of the ribbons and flounces that bedecked the dresses of her
darker-skinned companion. Such would have ill assorted with the noble
melancholy that appeared upon her beautiful countenance. None of all
this.

A robe of lig