I told about our night trip up the ravine, explained my ignorance of who occupied the house to which I had been, despatched, and how circumstances compelled me to remain concealed on the balcony, and thus overhear her conversation with her father and Captain Le Gaire.

I even referred to our quadroon guide, and then it was she suddenly turned her face toward me.
"A quadroon--and claiming to have once lived here?
Who could that be ?" "A servant slave of Le Gaire's." "Oh, yes! Charles.

I remember now--he ran away." Somehow she seemed more like the Billie of old now, and I went on with greater confidence, barely touching on my sudden determination to prevent her wedding, the capture of the house, and our subsequent conversation together.

As I approached the unpleasant interview in the parlor she sat up, brushing back her hair, and with questioning eyes on mine, exhibited the deepest interest.

I told the rest, word by word, act by act, determined to thus impress upon her the full truth of the narrative.