“What! M. Martinez your partner?” inquired Cora. “Dear old man, how well I remember him—but I thought I heard of his death many years ago?” “This M. Martinez is his nephew,” replied her father; “he succeeded his uncle in business, and has been my partner for some ten or fifteen years. He is a very superior man—” “Where is he now?” asked Cora. “He is in Italy,” replied her father. “He has never been a very active business man. Inheriting his uncle’s fortune, he concluded to leave the capital in our concern, and his name in the firm, though not by any means performing his uncle’s duties. His pursuits are wholly different—he is a fine scholar, and resides almost entirely in Europe. He returned last summer to see the completion of my house, and the arrangement of the furniture, but I could not persuade him to remain longer than a few months with me.” “And his family, where are they?” inquired Cora. “He lost his wife,” replied Mr. Neill, “many years since. A few months after their marriage she died. He was devotedly attached to her, and I think he never has recovered entirely from the shock; and on that account a residence in Cuba is disagreeable to him—it recalls his suddenly wrecked hopes.” Cora had not been many months with her father when she discovered that the close attention he had paid to his business, since the elder Martinez’ death, had impaired his health. She had, on her first arrival at home, contented herself with performing what few duties fell to her, and the hours her father spent with her, she exerted herself, though sometimes with labor, to amuse him; but those hours of the day that were left unoccupied, she was too prone to give herself up to the luxury of sad reminiscences, and as she looked around her luxurious home she would weepingly sigh for that one being, who, next to her father, held the first place in her heart. Her health would have been undoubtedly affected by this romantic indulgence, had she not had her fears aroused for her father’s safety, and terrified at the shadow of real sorrow she reproached herself for her weakness. She entreated him to yield up some of his duties; part of the business might be given up. “You are not well,” she urged, “leave business entirely; what you have already made will suffice for us—though, owing to your kindness, I have indulged myself in imaginary wants, I will most willingly content myself with fewer luxuries.”