"The truth is, Mr. Margrave," said Mrs. Montresor, "that my dear Adelaide is a spoiled child, and because her cousin happens to be a very sensible, high-principled young man, but not exactly a hero of romance, she thinks herself called upon to affect a contempt for him. But I know her better than she knows herself, and I am certain that, at the bottom of her heart, she cherishes a very sincere affection for Mortimer." "How can you know what's at the bottom of my heart, when I don't know myself, aunt Lucy?" exclaimed Adelaide, impatiently; "upon my word, I think no girl was ever so cruelly used as I have been. Other people make up a marriage for me, other people tell me whom I love, when I ought to know a deal better than they do. It's really shameful!" If the real cause of Adelaide's indignation could have been known, it would have been discovered that her anger was not so much aroused against her aunt as against Gilbert Margrave, for the indifferent manner in which he had spoken of her approaching marriage. Anxious to quell the storm, of which he little knew himself to be the cause, the young engineer endeavored to turn the conversation, and in order to do so, he asked a question which had been trembling on his lips from the very first. "Your friend, Miss Leslie," he said; "the star of your farewell assembly--you often see her, I suppose, Miss Horton?" Gilbert Margrave little knew that this very question only added fuel to the fire already raging in the breast of the impetuous girl. "I have never seen Cora Leslie since our arrival in New Orleans," she answered, coldly. "Indeed! But I thought you such intimate friends. Miss Leslie--she is not ill, I hope?" His evident anxiety about Cora terribly irritated Adelaide Horton. "That question I cannot answer. I know nothing whatever of Miss Leslie; for I repeat, we have not met since we reached America." "May I ask why this is so, Miss Horton?" "Because Cora Leslie is no fit associate for the daughter of Edward Horton." The blood rushed in a crimson torrent to the face of the young engineer. He started from his seat as if he had been shot. "In Heaven's name, Miss Horton," he exclaimed, "what would you insinuate; surely nothing against the honor of--" "I insinuate nothing, Mr. Margrave," answered Adelaide. "I simply tell you that the--the person of whom you speak is no companion for me. Whatever friendship, once existed between us is henceforth forever at an end--Cora Leslie is a slave!" A choking sensation had risen to the throat of the young engineer during this speech. Unutterable anguish had possessed him at the thought that he perhaps was about to hear of some stain upon the character of Cora. What, then, was his relief at finding how much he had wronged her purity, even by that fear? "A slave!" he replied. "Yes; African blood flows in her veins. She has never been emancipated; she is, therefore, as much a slave as the negroes upon her father's plantation."