was sent to the Corsa-hill in November, 1854; and the settlement of Ste. Marie has since grown up there. At the same time the little colony of St. Louis was established, with one hundred prisoners condemned to hard labour, close to Ste. Marie, and the larger settlement of St. Augustin, founded on the site of Power village. The latter was, at first, exclusively intended for the liberated convicts who have served their time, are remarkable for their regular and proper behaviour, and who take part at the public works, for a small wage, under constant inspection. After a portion of these, however, had been carried back to France, and a part destroyed by yellow fever, the remnant of seventy persons were carried to the adjacent Mont Joly, and their place was taken by galley-slaves, whose number, in February, 1857, amounted to three hundred and sixty-three. In 1856, measures were taken to enlarge the settlement in La Comté, by the purchase of several farms, but the yellow fever broke out, and stopped the works for a considerable period. The establishment at St. Philippe had progressed so far that, in 1857, one hundred and one convicts, all dangerous criminals, were removed there. At the present time it is probable that it has been deserted again, as is the case with St. Louis. In addition to agriculture, the persons transported to La Comté are employed in felling valuable trees; in the manufacture of bricks, which is carried on to a considerable extent; and in works on the river, to facilitate the communication between the settlement and Cayenne. A number of the most dangerous criminals are kept on board what are termed the "pénitenciers flottants," or vessels principally employed for harbour works in the Cayenne roads. The first ship of this description was the Gardien, with one hundred and fifty convicts; it was soon followed by the Castor, with seventy; which, since 1857, has maintained the communication between the Iles du Salut and the wood village of Trois Corbets, where one hundred prisoners are employed in preparing fire-wood; lately, the Proserpine has been added, with two hundred and sixty prisoners. In addition, there are a few liberated men, employed by private persons in Cayenne, or at the model garden of Baduel. In the first months of 1857, of the six thousand nine hundred convicts landed up to that time in Cayenne, about three thousand five hundred were still living. Owing to the great mortality of the déportés, and taking into consideration the fact that their labour is chiefly employed on public works, it cannot be assumed that the deportation has materially benefited the colony. In fact, not only the population, but also the productiveness, has sunk during the last years. According to the official reports published six years ago, the colony had, in 1844, 19,800; in 1853, 16,817; and, in 1854, 16,741 inhabitants. The value of the exports and imports, which amounted in 1853 to 7,411,858 francs, had sunk in the next year by nearly 400,000 francs. As to the condition of the several articles of production, a report of Mileyron, agent-general for the agriculture and colonisation of Guyana, supplies the best account. This report was attached to articles sent from Guyana to the exhibition of French colonial produce at Paris in 1857, and will be found printed in the Revue Coloniale for September of the same year. 71 GURNEY; OR, TWO FORTUNES. A STORY OF OUR OWN TIME. BY DUDLEY COSTELLO. CHAPTER XXXVI. A PAIR OF BLACK EYES. THEY raised the Marquis and placed him on a sofa, where he lay with closed eyes, breathing heavily. În a short time a medical man, who had been instantly sent for, arrived. It was hardly necessary for him to say that Monsieur de Saverne had been seized with apoplexy. "Will he recover, sir?" asked Bianca, much shocked at the sudden event. The doctor looked grave, and, of course, returned an indecisive answer. "It is possible, Mademoiselle; but the symptoms are serious. This room is warm and close; he must be removed to an outer one, where there is more air and a lower temperature.” This was accordingly done, and in about half an hour the Marquis was sufficiently restored to be conveyed to his own house, though with scarcely recovered consciousness. Hubert now sought to learn why he had found so many strangers in Mademoiselle de Gournay's apartment, and following Monsieur Simonet and Anatole out of the room, made inquiry of the latter. "It was a mistake on my part," replied the artist, "for which I am truly sorry; but how my uncle and Monsieur de Saverne came there is more than I can tell you." "Then, sir, it is to you I must apply for an explanation," said Hubert, addressing Monsieur Šimonet somewhat sternly. The propriétaire was greatly embarrassed. He was afraid to offend the rich young Englishman, and he had sold himself to the Marquis, whose money was at that moment in his pocket. But Monsieur Simonet was too much alive to his own interests to remain long in doubt. The Marquis was not there, perhaps he might never return, at all events he would not reclaim the bribe he had given, and there was an interrupted negotiation with Hubert which might be advantageously resumed-so he made up his mind to throw the Marquis over. "Ma foi, Monsieur!" he said, "it was pure accident. I did not know what suite my concierge had let to the lady, your friend, or the gentleman, who was in search of apartments himself, and a perfect stranger to me, should never have entered there." As Monsieur Simonet said this, he looked beseechingly at his nephew, who, though he knew his uncle lied, thought it would be better for all concerned if he refrained from exposing him. The explanation being natural enough, Hubert was fain to accept it, and would have returned to Bianca, when Monsieur Simonet stopped him. "If I mistake not, Monsieur," said the propriétaire, "it was you from whom I had the honour of a visit respecting the Château de Gournay?" "You are quite right," replied Hubert. "And but for circumstances which have since occurred I should have seen you again on the subject." "I hope, Monsieur, that you are still desirous of becoming my tenant ?" "As to that, there may possibly be some question; but, certainly, I have not changed my mind about the place itself." Monsieur Simonet's eyes sparkled. This was better than he expected. "If I understand you, Monsieur," he said, "you mean that you would not object to become the owner of the château ?" "That is, indeed, my meaning," returned Hubert; "but I have neither time nor opportunity at present to enter into the necessary business. I leave Paris this evening, but an affair of this sort can be managed by deputy as well as if I were here in person; and with your permission, Monsieur Simonet, I will forward my proposals through a trustworthy person to whom I can give full powers.' Though Monsieur Simonet thought he could make a better bargain with the principal than with his substitute, he did not say "no" to this proposition; if the Englishman fancied the place, he should pay for his fancy; the agent, whoever he might be, must be a clever fellow to get the better of Paul Simonet. "I shall," he said, "be at the disposition of anybody whom Monsieur. pleases to employ. Only I should desire to enter upon the subject very shortly, for it is likely that I shall have many offers; in fact, one or two claim my consideration already." This was not true, but it was not Monsieur Simonet's habit to speak the truth in such matters; indeed, it would be difficult to find any one who is perfectly candid where a bargain is in perspective. This, however, made little difference to Hubert, who said that Monsieur Simonet should hear from him within a week, and on this understanding the propriétaire bowed and took leave, intimating to his nephew that he wished to speak to him before he left the hotel. "Now that my uncle is gone," said Anatole to Hubert, "you shall know what has happened to me.' Most people would have been deterred from such a revelation by the fear of appearing ridiculous, but Anatole had no such apprehension. His heart was good, but to be over-sensitive was not amongst his merits-or his failings and nothing remained untold. In return for his confidence, Hubert related the circumstances under which he had fallen in with Mademoiselle de Gournay, but I am afraid he did not make quite a clean breast with reference to his own feelings, and perhaps it is hardly to be expected that he should have done so. No apprehension of rivalry was, however, the cause of his reticence, for Anatole honestly avowed that Bianca's words had quite dissipated the illusion under which he laboured before he spoke to her. "Then I presume," said Hubert, "that you will be more amenable to your uncle's wishes; and, to tell you the truth, it struck me from his manner when he left us that you might make your peace with him more easily than you expected." "I also," replied Anatole, "have my thoughts on that subject. But we shall see. In the mean time, it will enchant me to be of any use in the business you are going to have with my cunning old uncle. It is a singular thing that you should wish to buy this château." "Not so singular as you imagine; I have been there and like it very much. I thank you sincerely for your kindness, but there is a person living in the neighbourhood of Gournay who knows the full value of the estate, and will take care of my interests in the transaction." "Adieu, then," said Anatole. "I do not permit myself to have the honour of again appearing before Mademoiselle de Gournay, but I beg of you to present to her my most respectful hommages; and I trust, Monsieur, that I shall see you when you return to Paris." "Do not doubt it," replied Hubert. "I suppose you are always to be heard of here. But," he added, laughing, "I have not forgotten your promise to visit me in England." With a serio-comic expression of countenance Anatole made answer that he hoped, after all, he should be able to keep his word, and the young men then separated, Hubert to tell Bianca of the arrangements he had made for her departure, and Anatole to consider what he should say to his uncle's proposal. He thought of consulting Jacques Mignerot on the subject, but the concierge was not in the way when he looked for him, and although his wife was so distinguished an ornament of her sex, Anatole felt no disposi tion to bestow his entire confidence on her. Passing the porter's lodge, therefore, he strolled to the entrance of the porte cochère, to wait till Jacques should make his appearance, and while he was looking about him he became aware of a pair of very fine large black eyes which gleamed from the shop-window opposite, and were evidently fixed upon him. Under no circumstances of Anatole's life had he ever been backward in returning the glances of fine eyes, whether black or blue, and he was in the frame of mind just now when one colour was as acceptable to him as another. Accordingly, he threw that kind of expression into his own eyes, which said, as plainly as if his tongue had spoken, "I have a desolate bosomcome and console me!" The large black eyes seemed to understand this mute appeal, for, like the stars, as we gaze upon them, they twinkled, and then shone out again in all their original brightness. "C'est piquant, ça," said Anatole-"I wonder who those eyes belong to! Let us try them again!" This time he did not trust to the persuasive eloquence of his visual organs alone, but bent his head with a most captivating smile. The head in which the large black eyes were set, turned half aside at this demonstration, revealing a nose in profile which, though too retroussé for positive beauty, was not altogether displeasing, and as the light fell upon the face, it caught a cheek which was at least as red as a rose-redder, perhaps, than some that we admire. From piquant the attraction had now become agaçant, especially as the large black eyes remained averted, though-for some curious optical reason-evidently not unconscious of the effect produced by them, the inference leading to this conclusion being drawn from a certain tremulous motion in the lid that was visible. Anatole continued in the same position, intent upon discovering as much as possible, and, as if his wish had been divined, a small hand was extended to remove some article in the window; but it was probably too far off to be conveniently reached, for the whole figure, as far as the waist, was advanced, and displayed an amplitude of bust, which, in an artistical point of view, suggested the idea of a very satisfactory model. "If that young person," said Anatole, "is Mademoiselle Cassonade, Mignerot has not done her justice. When one has such eyes and such a figure, what signifies the rest? It is not every brunette can show as much. Decidedly she is to my taste. Ah, Jacques, is it you at last? I was waiting to speak to you. Come here, close. Come here, close. Is that," he whispered, with a backward motion of his head, "is that the épicière's daughter?" Jacques gave a glance in the direction indicated, and replied in the affirmative. "Very well, then," said Anatole, "I know now what to say to my uncle." Thereupon he took off his hat and made a low bow to the shop-window of Madame Cassonade, and as the young lady who was planted there happened to have turned again towards the street, he was gratified by perceiving that his salute was acknowledged. "What do you think of her, Monsieur Anatole?" asked Jacques Mignerot. But he asked the question in vain. Anatole was gone. The skirts of his coat were all he saw as the young man rushed into the hotel. Never in all his born days had Anatole mounted his uncle's staircase half so rapidly as he now ascended it, nor, accustomed as he was to his abrupt entrances, had Monsieur Simonet ever been so much surprised at his nephew's greeting, for he instantly threw himself into his arms. "What is the meaning of this ?" exclaimed the old man, as soon as he could release himself from Anatole's embrace. "It means, my dear uncle, that I am penetrated with grief at the remembrance of my conduct when last I was here. I have come to atone for my fault." "In what way?" asked Monsieur Simonet. "By listening always to your advice, by obeying you in everything, by marrying any one you please." "Aha!" cried Monsieur Simonet. "So you have come to your senses at last! How came this about? Marry whom I please! It is not an hour since I saw you kneeling before that young lady down stairs-the young lady with the large fortune!" "But I was not making love to her, my dear uncle, I assure you I was not." "When one goes down upon one's knees "Ah, yes," interrupted Anatole, "it looks like it, no doubt, but if you had heard what took place beforehand you would have been of a different opinion. No, uncle, my heart is free, and at your disposal." The old man knit his brows and puckered up his mouth, as if he did not know what to make of his nephew's submissive behaviour. To test his sincerity at once, he said: "Well, then, you shall go with me to Madame Cassonade, and be presented to her daughter. That is a marriage I am resolved on. hear ?" "Yes, my dear uncle. entirely at your orders. sonade ?" Do you I have no desire but to please you. I am The hypocrite! As if those large black eyes were not at that moment dancing before him! |