The papers which De Guy had brought from Bellevue, and which
he heard described by the doctor, did much to assure him that no evil
was intended towards her; but the man who had been a villain once was,
in his opinion, exceedingly apt to be so again.
Emily was ill at ease during the passage; not that she felt unsafe, or
dreaded treachery, but something seemed to whisper that evil _might_ be
near her. An undefined sensation of doubt seemed to beset her path, and
urge upon her the unpleasant necessity of extreme caution. She was
conscious of being engaged in a good work. She had forgiven her great
enemy, and was now on her way to smooth his dying pillow. There was
something lofty and beautiful in the thought, and she derived much
consolation from it.
De Guy rarely intruded himself upon her notice during the passage. At
meal-hours he was scrupulously polite and attentive, but he was as cold
and formal as she could desire. She never ventured upon the promenade
deck, unless her faithful Hatchie was near.
The mulatto, with all his watchfulness, was unable to discover any
indications of treachery on the part of De Guy, though an apparently
confidential conversation with the captain of the steamer, on the night
before their arrival at New Orleans, had rather an unfavorable
appearance.
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