embouchure of
the road, I espied the hoof-tracks of both animals going out towards the
river. I saw also those we had made on the previous night coming in. I
compared them. The tracks leading both ways were made by the same
horses. One had a broken shoe, which enabled me at a glance to tell
they were the same. I noted another "sign" upon the trail. I noted
that our horses in passing out dragged their bridles, with branches
adhering to them. This confirmed the original supposition, that they
had broken loose.

It was now a question of how far they had gone. Should I follow and
endeavour to overtake them? It was now bright daylight, and the risk
would be great. Long before this, Gayarre and his friends would be up
and on the alert. No doubt parties were already traversing the Levee
Road as well as the bye-paths among the plantations. At every step I
might expect to meet either a scout or a pursuer.

The tracks of the horses showed they had been travelling rapidly and
straight onward. They had not stopped to browse. Likely they had gone
direct to the Levee Road, and turned back to the city. They were livery
horses, and no doubt knew the road well. Besides, they were of the
Mexican breed--"mustangs." With these lively animals the trick of
returning over a day's journey without their riders is not uncommon.

To attempt to overtake them seemed hopeless as well as perilous, and I
at once gave up the idea and turned back into the woods. As I
approached the pawpaw thicket, I walked with lighter tread. I am
ashamed to tell the reason. Foul thoughts were in my heart.

The murmur of voices fell upon my ear.

"By Heaven! D'Hauteville has again got back before me!"

I struggled for some moments with my honour. It gave way; and I made my
further approach among the pawpaws with the silence of a thief.

"D'Hauteville and she in close and friendly converse! They stand
fronting each other. Their faces almost meet--their attitudes betoken a
mutual interest. They talk in an earnest tone--in the low murmuring of
lovers! O God!"

At this moment the scene on the wharf-boat flashed on my recollection.
I remembered the youth wore a cloak, and that he was of low stature. It
was he who was standing before me! That puzzle was explained. I was
but a waif--a foil--a thing for a coquette to play with!

There stood the _true_ lover of Aurore!

I stopped like one stricken. The sharp aching of my heart, oh! I may