One murmur of admiration spread through the assembly as the Octoroon took her place at the table.
All there had heard of the loveliness of Gerald Leslie's daughter, yet few had expected to see her so lovely.
Eyeglasses were raised, spectacles put on, and looks of insolent admiration were fixed upon the unhappy girl.
But she saw them not—the center of every eye, she was scarcely conscious of how much she had to endure. Her whole being was absorbed in one thought. Her father; would he come, would he rescue her?
When for one brief instant she lifted her eyes, the crowd of faces swam before her, as if hidden from her by a veil of mist.
The sounds of the many voices fell as confused murmurs upon her ears.
She was listening for the voice which should announce to her that help was near.
But that longed-for voice did not come, and she heard instead the harsh accents of the auctioneer dwelling upon the charms which were to be sold to the highest bidder.
At that moment two men entered the building from opposite doors.
One of these was Augustus Horton, the other Gilbert Margrave.