It was nearly midnight, and the planter's small household had retired to rest.
There were only two watchers in that luxurious habitation.
The first of these was Augustus Horton; the second was Cora, the Octoroon.
The unhappy girl had been brought from the auction room to Hortonville in Augustus's phaeton, the thorough-bred horses of which made brief work of the journey from New Orleans.
Adelaide Horton and her aunt, Mrs. Montresor, were still at their city residence.
Cora scarce dared to think why Augustus had chosen to take her to Hortonville, rather than to his town house.
The answer to that question was too terrible.
Could there be any doubt as to his motive in choosing this lonely villa for the retreat of the Octoroon?
Was it not that the wretched girl might be more fully in his power?
The chamber to which Cora had been conducted was even more luxuriously furnished than her own tastefully decorated apartment in the pavilion on the borders of Lake Pontchartrain, but the Octoroon looked at the splendor around her with a shudder.