Two days after this happy evening, Mortimer led his fair bride to the altar. The ceremonial took place thus hurriedly in order that Cora--the Octoroon, the once despised slave--might officiate as bridesmaid at her old schoolfellow's wedding. The bride was given away by her brother Augustus, and Gilbert Margrave acted as "best man" to the bridegroom. On the day following, Gilbert, Cora, and Leslie were to bid adieu to New Orleans. The marriage ceremony was performed with great splendor, and a sumptuous banquet was given by Augustus Horton to the most distinguished inhabitants of New Orleans. It had been intended that Cora Leslie should appear at this banquet; and there was considerable curiosity felt upon the subject by the guests who knew the leading particulars of her story, and who were anxious to see the heroine of such romantic adventures. They were disappointed, however, for, just as the bride was taking her place at the table, the Quadroon slave, Myra, slipped a note into her hand. It was from Cora, and ran thus: "Dearest Adelaide,--Forgive me if I have disobeyed you in withdrawing from your brilliant assembly. All your visitors are not as generous as yourself; and there may be many amongst your guests whose prejudices would be outraged by the presence of a daughter of the despised race. I have a sacred duty to perform before leaving Louisiana; and I go with Gilbert to fulfill it during the hours of your festivity. "Ever and ever your affectionate "CORA." The reader may, perhaps, guess the duty which called Cora Leslie from that festive party. Deep in the bosom of that wood at Iberville, in which Gilbert Margrave and Augustus Horton had met some months before, Cora knelt with her lover beside the wooden cross, which alone marked the spot where the martyred Francilia lay. Mournful were the tears which the freeborn Englishman and his betrothed bride wept upon the grave of the victim of slavery. But the star of hope shone above the tomb and a prophetic whisper in the hearts of both, told of a day when the terrible institution which enables man to traffic in the body and soul of his fellow men, should be only a dark memory of the past. * * * * * Early next day a happy group stood upon the deck of a large steamer, which was speeding away from New Orleans. Already the Queen City of the Mississippi was fading in the horizon, the white walls of villas, and the steeples of churches melting in the distance. Cora Leslie stood with her arm linked in that of her father, and with her betrothed husband by her side. A little way behind them, laden with shawls, parasols, and books, and proud to be of service to his young mistress, stood Toby, the mulatto; no longer a slave, but a happy attendant on those he loved.