"Ah, Cora, speak—speak, I implore!"
"From one we love!"
"Cora, my adored," exclaimed Gilbert, with rapture, clasping her hand, and seated himself by her.
They had not been unwatched during this interview. The eyes of jealousy were upon the unconscious lovers, for Adelaide Horton had emerged from the saloon, and, gliding at the back of the little table, had heard the latter part of their conversation.
She knew the worst now. This man—this man to whom she had given her heart, unasked and unsought, loved and was beloved by the despised daughter of a slave. Wounded pride, jealousy, revenge, humiliation, all mingled in the passionate emotion of that moment. Blind with anger, she knew not what she did.
By this time the deck of the Selma was again crowded with passengers. Augustus Horton still carried the New Orleans paper in his hand, and he was talking to Silas Craig about the attack upon Mr. Leslie.
"Confess now, you sly old fox," he said, laughing, "you are the author of this article? Why be too modest to own so good a work?"
Gilbert Margrave started from his seat.
"Now, Cora," he whispered, "I can no longer remain silent. I have now a right to defend you."
The captain of the Selma at this moment joined the group round Augustus Horton.