Her father opposed her entreaties. Martinez, the only partner, was abroad—no agent could attend to his affairs—business had never been so prosperous as now—he was well enough. In a few years he would wind up, and then they would go to Europe for a year or two to restore his strength. A few months afterward however found him stretched on a bed of sickness, and so alarming was it, that M. Martinez had to be summoned to what the weeping Cora feared would be her father’s death-bed. But careful, devoted attention on her part, and skillful physicians, warded off the immediate danger, and when M. Martinez arrived, Mr. Neill was convalescent, though his health remained in a very delicate state. He then consented to yield to Cora’s entreaties, and in a little while all his affairs were arranged by M. Martinez, and he had retired from business. There was no need for any sacrifice, even of a single luxury. Mr. Neill found himself possessed of ample means—placed in good investments it yielded more than sufficient for their expenditures. Cora was surprised at M. Martinez’ appearance. She had pictured to herself a middle-aged Spaniard, recalling the recollections she had of his uncle, which were any thing but complimentary to the nephew; for though the elder Martinez was a good old man, he was a very homely one; being short, thick-set, and his complexion was cloudy and dark. The younger Martinez, on the contrary, was a tall, handsome man, and although forty or forty-five years of age, looked full ten years younger, and was exceedingly polished and agreeable in his manners. He was their constant guest, and she found the hours passing much more agreeably since his arrival than before. His conversation was interesting—he had seen much of the world, and had improved by intercourse with society. He possessed many accomplishments and soon interested himself in Cora’s pursuits. She was charmed with his superior attainments, and found herself at last relying on him, and looking up to him as to a much-loved elder brother. She never for an instant thought of loving him. Though hopelessly separated from Harry Belton, she cherished the memory of their attachment with almost sacred earnestness. She frequently heard from Madame Chalon, but the good Madame never mentioned his name, and she was quite ignorant of any thing relating to him. She had ceased repining for their separation since her father’s dangerous illness, but her thoughts dwelt upon him as a loved one buried.