"I appeal to you, then, in the presence of your sister and your cousin, and in that of Mrs. Montresor, whose sentiments, I know, are opposed to the cruel system of barter, which has in my case deprived a father of his beloved and only daughter--I appeal to every better feeling of your nature, and I ask if my child Cora is to suffer for one hour for the infamy of that man, Silas Craig? Restore her to freedom, before I institute proceedings to invalidate the illegal sale of my property, which was seized upon for a debt I never owed." Augustus Horton laughed bitterly. "All this is very fine," he said; "but as Miss Cora Leslie has chosen to run away from her rightful owner, it is not in my power to give her up--even if I wished it!" "Would you restore her to me if she were found?" asked Gerald Leslie. "No." "You would not? Remember, we are rich, and I would give back your fifty thousand dollars, or double that sum if you pleased." "Curse your paltry dollars!" cried Augustus. "It was revenge I wanted to buy with my money; revenge for the insult your slave-daughter dared to inflict upon me. And am I to be balked of that revenge to the very last? No, I repeat, that were Cora recaptured to-night, I would not give her up." "You would not?" "I would not; and what is more I could not, for she is no longer mine." "No longer yours!" "No; I have given her away!" "Given her away!" "Yes, to my sister Adelaide, yonder, who has good reason to hate her, and who will make her feel what it is to be a slave. Trust a woman for that! With me she would have lived the life of a duchess; as my sister's property she will be a lady's-maid--a drudge. Heaven knows how low she may sink. It may please her mistress to send your brilliant and accomplished daughter to the kitchen to wait upon the cook." Gerald Leslie writhed at this insulting speech. "Miss Horton," he exclaimed, "surely, surely your woman's nature revolts at such words as these. Why do you not speak? You were once my daughter's friend; for pity's sake remember that!" During the whole of this dialogue, Adelaide Horton had sat perfectly still, her head bent over her work, as if she heard nothing of what was going forward; but a close observer might have perceived that her bosom heaved with suppressed emotion, and that her small hand trembled as she endeavored to continue her work. This had not been lost on Mortimer Percy, who had been for some time intently watching his cousin. Suddenly she raised her head, in order to reply to Gerald Leslie. "I can only answer you in the words of my brother, Mr. Leslie," she said; "I cannot restore Cora Leslie to you even if I would, for she is no longer mine. I, too, have given her away." Augustus started at these words. "You, Adelaide!" he exclaimed.