Thick shrubberies of magnolia and arbutus, intersected by winding pathways, and varied by rockeries, lay between the terrace and the limpid waters below. Tall palms spread their feathery branches above the roof of the pavilion, and exotic flowers bloomed beneath the colonnade of bamboo work which surrounded the light edifice. A flight of marble steps led from the glass door of the pavilion, and a balustrade of the same pure white material stretched the whole length of the terrace, at each end of which were sculptured marble vases, filled with the rarest blossoms. A flower garden, in exquisite order, surrounded the pavilion, while exactly opposite the veranda a rustic table and some garden chairs were placed beneath the luxuriant shade of a banana tree. Seated on the steps leading from the pavilion, faithful as a dog who listens for the footsteps of his beloved master, the slave Toby might have been seen on the day following that on which Cora had paid her unwelcome visit at the house of Augustus Horton. Gerald Leslie was at his office in New Orleans, where business often detained him when the best wishes of his heart would have kept him by his daughter's side. The summer afternoon was hot and sultry, and all the windows were open. The slave seemed to be listening eagerly for some sound within. "All is silent," he said, sorrowfully; "that pretty bird sings no more. What has happened? Something. I know. I saw by her sad face when she returned from New Orleans yesterday, that all was not well with the sweet young mistress. The sorrows of those he loves cannot escape the eyes of poor Toby." At this moment a light footstep sounded behind him, and Cora Leslie emerged from the pavilion. The young girl was dressed in the thinnest white muslin, which floated round her graceful figure, aerial as some vapory cloud in the summer sky. She was pale and a mournful shadow dimmed the orient splendor of her large black eyes. She descended the marble steps slowly without perceiving the faithful slave who had risen at her approach, and who stood aside regarding her earnestly. "Miss Cora is sad," he said presently; "will she forgive the poor slave if he presumes to ask why?" She started at the sound of the mulatto's voice, and turning toward him held out her hand silently. Toby took the little hand in his and raised it to his lips. "Miss Cora does not deny that she is sad," he repeated. "Not so much sad, Toby, as bewildered," replied the young girl. "My reception at the house of my old school-fellow has filled my mind with perplexity. What could be the meaning of Adelaide Horton's conduct?" "Forgive me, Miss Cora, if I remind you that your father particularly requested you not to leave the house during his absence."