"Is your news bad, then?" exclaimed his cousin.
"It is not altogether as favorable as I should wish."
"Oh, in Heaven's name, speak, Mr. Percy," cried Cora, pale with agitation, "what has happened to my father?"
"Reassure yourself, Miss Leslie," replied Mortimer, "when I left New Orleans your father was rapidly recovering."
"He had been ill, then?"
"He was wounded in a revolt of the slaves on his plantation."
"Wounded!" exclaimed Cora; "oh, for pity's sake, do not deceive me, Mr. Percy! this wound—was it dangerous?"
"It was no longer so when I left Louisiana, I give you my honor."
Cora sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands.
"You see, Adelaide," she murmured, after a few moments' silence, "my presentiments were not unfounded. Dearest father, and I was not near to watch and comfort you!"