The young girl felt that the Creole's burning, passionate words veiled a meaning which was an insult to her.
"Nay, hear me, hear me, Cora," continued Augustus Horton; "there is, perhaps, a secret; there is, it may be, a fatality which overshadows your young life. Be mine, and none shall ever taunt you with that fatal secret; be mine, and you shall be the proudest beauty in Louisiana, the queen of New Orleans, the idol of your lover's devoted heart; be mine, and the debt owed me by your father shall be cancelled; be mine, and I will tear into a hundred fragments the bill which I hold for fifty thousand dollars, and which it will half ruin Gerald Leslie to pay."
Her eyes flashing, her bosom heaving with offended modesty, Cora Leslie rose from her chair.
"Toby," she called, without even replying by so much as a look to the planter's appeal.
"Cora Leslie, what would you do?" exclaimed the Creole, rising.
"Toby!" repeated Cora.
"Beware, young lady!"
The mulatto appeared in answer to the summons of his young mistress.
"Toby, you will conduct this gentleman to the gates of my father's grounds, and remember that if he ever again dares to present himself here, it will be your duty to refuse him admittance. You hear?"
"Yes, mistress."