But the two houses were separated by a passage of considerable length, and Don Juan was too far from his beloved daughter to hear that terrible shriek of distress which alarmed every player at the gaming table.
Upon the day on which Silas Craig, accompanied by the limbs of the law, entered the house of Gerald Leslie, taking with him desolation and anguish, Pauline Corsi and Camillia Moraquitos were once more seated in the boudoir of the Spanish girl.
The Amazon had sailed from New Orleans, carrying Paul Lisimon away from danger of apprehension—away also from her he loved.
Matters were rapidly drawing toward a crisis—within a few days the French governess was to become the bride of Juan Moraquitos.
But the wealthy Spaniard had little of the aspect of a happy bridegroom.
He rarely entered the apartments of either his daughter or Pauline Corsi, but he spent his hours in gloomy meditation in his study, and admitted no one to his presence.
Camillia was cruelly distressed by this change, yet she dared not interrogate the haughty Spaniard.
Sometimes she imagined that he reproached himself for contracting a second alliance which might lessen his daughter's wealth.
"If he knew how little I care for the gold which others so value," she thought; "if he knew how happy I could be in the humblest home shared with those I love, he would not fear to rob me of a few thousand."