“Very well,” responded Maxwell, as his associate proceeded to cut away the bushes, and form a pathway through, the thicket.  “When shall the thing be done?”

“As to that I can hardly say.  When we get to Vicksburg we can decide.  Better let the girl rest a week or so; for it may take that time to get things ready.  You can’t hire men to do such work as easily as you can to cut wood and dig ditches.  It takes skill and caution.”

“Very well, I am in no haste.”

For nearly an hour Vernon labored at his task, and completed a path through which the party could easily pass to the cottage.

The object of their visit accomplished, Hatchie saw them return to their boat, and row down the river.  After they had disappeared round a bend, he descended from the tree, and examined the labors of Vernon.  He found the bushes which had been cut down were nicely placed at each end of the path in an upright position, so as to conceal it from the eyes of the passer.  For a long time the mulatto reflected upon the conversation he had heard, and considered the means of defeating the diabolical plot.  Against a band of ruffians, such as Vernon would enlist for the service, he could not contend single-handed.  To remove his mistress from the island, while Henry Carroll lay helpless there, would not be an acceptable proposition to her.  Resolving to lay the information he had gained before Dr. Vaudelier, he returned to his canoe, and, having rounded the island, reached the cottage by the usual passage.

* * * * *

Henry Carroll still slept.  For six hours he had lain under the influence of the powerful opiate.  Emily entered his chamber in company with the doctor, on their return from the wood-yard.  The sight of Henry, pale and worn as he appeared, excited all her sympathy.  His right arm, which was uninjured, lay extended on the bed; she gently grasped it, and, bending over him, imprinted upon his pallid lips a kiss, that was unknown and unappreciated by its recipient.  Only a few days before she had listened to the eloquent confession of him who now lay insensible of her presence.  She was a true woman, and the presence of Dr. Vaudelier did not restrain the expression of her woman’s heart.  It was visible in her pale cheek, in her heaving breast, and in her sparkling eye, from which oozed the gentle tear of affectionate sympathy.

She held his hand; unconsciously, at the silent bidding of her warm heart, she gently pressed it.  As though the magnetism of love had communicated itself to the sleeper, he sighed heavily, and uttered a groan of half-subdued anguish.  His eyelids fluttered; he was apparently shaking off the heaviness of slumber.  His lips quivered, and Emily heard them faintly articulate her name.

At the request of the good physician, she reluctantly withdrew from the apartment.

The sufferer endeavored to turn in the bed; the effort drew from him a groan of agony, which, in a more wakeful state, a proud superiority over every weakness would not have permitted him to utter.  His eyes opened, and he stared vacantly about the darkened chamber.  The doctor took his hand, and examined his pulse.