This done, he ordered his horse, and attended by his groom, rode at once to Villa Moraquitos. He was determined to precipitate matters, and enlist the Spaniard in his behalf. This he knew would be an easy matter, as Don Juan had always encouraged his address. Augustus Horton found the Spaniard alone in an apartment, which was called his study, though little trace of studious habits was to be found within its walls. The paneling of this chamber was adorned with weapons of every kind, arranged in symmetrical order upon the walls. Cutlasses, pistols, and carbines, of polished steel, inlaid with gold and enamel, hung in glittering array, side by side with charts of that ocean upon which, if scandalous tongues were correct, Don Juan Moraquitos had for many years been a rover. When Augustus Horton entered this room the Spaniard was standing near an open window, his arms folded, his head bent upon his breast, moodily puffing a cheroot. He started as his visitor was announced, and, recovering himself as if by an effort, advanced to greet him. "This is kind, my dear Augustus," he said, "but I thought you had left New Orleans for Hortonville." "It is quite true--I left yesterday." "And returned this morning?" "Yes." "Capricious boy! So soon tired of your rural retreat?" "You cannot guess the cause of my return?" "No, indeed." "What, Don Juan! Can you not imagine that there may be a loadstar shining in this city, which draws me back to it in spite of myself?" "Ah! I begin to understand. And that loadstar is--" "Your daughter, Camillia." The Spaniard was silent for some moments, as if absorbed in thought. Then, turning to the planter, he said, gravely, "Augustus Horton, I have long foreseen this. I will freely own to you, that some time since, I cherished more ambitious views for my only child. We Spaniards are a proud race, and I once hoped that the husband of my daughter might be one of the haughty nobles of my distant native land. But that is past now," he added, with a sigh; "your rank is as high as that of any man in Louisiana. You are no penniless adventurer who seeks to enrich himself by marriage. You are young, handsome, wealthy. Win her, then, you have my free consent." "And your assistance?" "Yes." "But if she should refuse?" "I cannot force her wishes. She is my only child, the sole treasure of an old man's heart. If you cannot win her love, you must submit to her refusal of your hand." Augustus Horton retired with many expressions of gratitude and affection, but once outside the chamber his brow darkened and he clinched his fist as he muttered with an oath: "This Spaniard is like some foolish old woman. He cannot force his daughter's wishes, forsooth; and the double fortune of Don Juan Moraquitos and Don Tomaso Crivelli may go to any handsome adventurer upon whom Donna Camillia chooses to bestow her affection." As these thoughts were busy in his brain, he crossed the spacious hall on his way to Camillia's apartments.