"I thought you a villain," she said, with cold deliberation, unmixed with terror; "but I did not think you were capable of such a deed as this. There were depths of black infamy which I had yet to fathom. I thank you for teaching me their black extent." "You shall thank me for a better lesson ere we part, Camillia Moraquitos." Again the Spanish girl looked at him with the same cold and withering gaze. "I do not fear you," she murmured between her clinched teeth; "I can suffer--but I can also die!" Her small white hand wandered almost mechanically to the bosom of her silken dress, where, concealed by the rich folds of black lace, lurked the jeweled hilt of a small dagger. It was a glittering toy, a bauble which, after the custom of her Spanish ancestry, she wore sometimes when the whim seized her--but, plaything though it was, the blade was of the finest Toledo steel and workmanship. "I can die," she repeated, as her fingers entwined themselves convulsively about the gemmed hilt of this tiny weapon. "Ay, lady," answered Augustus, with the bitter irony of some triumphant fiend, "you can die here, stabbed to the heart by your own hand, that jeweled dagger buried in your breast. And when your corpse is found here to-morrow, by the astounded police, what think you will be said by the scandalmongers of New Orleans? If you knew them, Donna Camillia, as well as I, you would be able to guess what they will say. They will whisper to each other how the lovely and haughty daughter of Don Juan Moraquitos went to meet her lover at midnight, in one of the secret chambers of a certain gambling-house; where, on being pursued thither by her infuriated father, the unhappy girl, overcome by despair, drew a dagger from her bosom and stabbed herself to the heart. This is what will be said, unless I am much deceived in human nature." "Oh, misery!" exclaimed Camillia. "And even should the worthy citizens of New Orleans fail to put this interpretation upon your death, a few judicious whispers dropped by my chosen friends--a smile of triumph, and a shrug of the shoulders from myself will soon set afloat any report I please. So think twice before you use that pretty plaything, Donna Camillia," added the planter, pointing to the hilt she grasped in her hand; "think twice if you are prudent, and remember that death to-night, and in this house, is not death alone--it is disgrace!" The young girl buried her face in her hands. She shuddered, but she did not speak. Augustus Horton perceived that involuntary shudder, and an exclamation of triumph escaped his lips. "Ah, proud Spanish woman, you whom the wealthiest and most aristocratic creole of New Orleans is not worthy to wed, you no longer defy me then. You tremble though those stubborn lips refuse to entreat--those haughty knees cannot stoop to kneel--you tremble! Now listen to me!" He pushed a chair toward her. She sank into it and, as if with an effort, removed her hands from her face.