"What would you have, my dear cousin?" replied Mortimer; "when dogs are too violently beaten, they are apt to bite." "They should be tied up then," retorted Adelaide as she took Gilbert's arm and hurried to the ball-room where the dancers were already whirling round in valse a deux-temps. Cora rose as she found herself alone with the young planter, and no longer attempting to conceal her agitation, exclaimed, anxiously. "And am I indeed to believe what you say, Mr. Percy; do you really mean that it is ill-usage which has urged my father's slaves to this revolt?" "Alas, Miss Leslie," replied the young South American, "the planter finds himself between the horns of a terrible dilemma; he must either beat his slaves or suffer from their laziness. I will own to you that Mr. Leslie is not considered too indulgent a master; but he only follows the example of the greater number of our colonists. However, it is not he, but his overseer who was the chief cause of this revolt. Your father would have interfered; in attempting to do so he was seriously wounded; but let me once more assure you that he was entirely out of danger when I left New Orleans." "And did he give you no message for me--no letter?" asked Cora. "No, Miss Leslie." "What, not a word?" "Your father did not know that I should see you," replied Mortimer, "and it is on this very subject that I wish to ask you a few questions; not prompted by any vain curiosity, believe me, because you inspire me with the warmest interest." "Speak, Mr. Percy," said Cora, seating herself. Mortimer drew a chair to the side of that on which Cora was seated, and placing himself near to her, said gravely, "Tell me, Miss Leslie, in what manner do you usually receive your father's letters?" "Through one of his correspondents who lives at Southampton." "Then they are not directly addressed to you." "They are not." "Were you very young when you left Louisiana?" "I was only five years old," replied Cora. "So young! Your memory can recall nothing that occurred at that time, I suppose." "Oh, yes," answered Cora; "but memories so confused that they seem rather to resemble dreams. But there is one recollection which no time can efface. It is of a woman, young, beautiful, who clasped me to her arms, sobbing as she strained me to her breast. I can still hear her sobs when I recall that scene." "Has Mr. Leslie ever spoken to you of your mother?" asked Mortimer. "Was it she?" cried Cora, eagerly. "I do not know, Miss Leslie, for at that time I was still in England, where, like you, I received my education."