The two months for which the bill, for a hundred thousand dollars due to Silas Craig, had been renewed, were rapidly gliding away, and every day made the position of Gerald Leslie more alarming. Cora knew nothing of these pecuniary troubles. She thought that her father had deserted his home rather than endure her reproaches, and she bitterly upbraided herself for the cruel words she had spoken to one whose faults were rather those of circumstance, than inclination. Gilbert Margrave recovered; but he still lingered beneath Gerald Leslie's roof; for the planter had written to him from New York, thanking him earnestly for his championship of Cora, and imploring him to remain at Lake Pontchartrain until his return. Gilbert waited, therefore, until the presence of Mr. Leslie might enable him to make the necessary arrangements for his marriage with the Octoroon. He was well aware that he could not marry her in New Orleans; but he knew that in free England there is no barrier to separate an honorable man from the woman of his choice. It was now upon the very eve of the date upon which the dreaded bill of exchange was to fall due, and at eleven o'clock upon the night preceding the fatal day, Gerald Leslie returned to the Pavilion upon the borders of Lake Pontchartrain. Cora had retired to rest when her father arrived; but Gilbert Margrave was walking along upon the terrace, overlooking the lake upon which the moonbeams shed their soft lustre. He was, therefore, the first to welcome Mr. Leslie, and he was not long in perceiving that some heavy trouble was weighing upon the mind of Cora's father. "You must be fatigued after your long journey, Mr. Leslie," said Gilbert. "I feel called upon to play the host beneath your own roof. Pray let us go in. Toby will prepare you some refreshments." "No, no, Mr. Margrave," answered Gerald; "I want nothing. I am too much excited to require even repose. Let us remain here--here we can converse freely. Toby is a faithful fellow, but he knows too much already of my misfortunes. Where is Cora?" "She has retired to rest." "That is well. Poor girl! Poor girl!" He sighed heavily, and relapsed into silence. The two men walked side by side up and down the terrace for some minutes without uttering a word. Gilbert Margrave was the first to speak. "Pardon me, Mr. Leslie," he said, "but I fear you have some cause for unhappiness. Remember how dear you and yours are to me, and do not scruple to confide in me, do not hesitate to command my services. They are yours to the death."