This secret was the engagement between herself and Paul Lisimon.
"You will not breathe one word to a mortal of the vows which bind us till death, will you, my Camillia?" said the young man, as, intoxicated with happiness, he pressed his betrothed to his wildly throbbing heart.
"To no one, dearest," answered Camillia, "until your position will warrant you in asking my father's consent to our union. That is to say," she added hesitatingly, "to no one but Pauline. I shall be so anxious to talk of you, and I know I can trust her."
"Not one word to her, Camillia, as you love me," exclaimed Paul, with energy.
"What? you mistrust my faithful Pauline?"
"I mistrust no one," answered Lisimon; "yet, paradoxical as it may seem, I trust scarcely any one. To give your secrets into the keeping of another, is to give your life—nay, the better part of life; for those secrets appertain to the inmost sentiment of your heart. No, Camillia, tell nothing until that day comes, when, proud and triumphant, I can claim you before your father and the world."
"But you believe Pauline to be all that is good?" urged Camillia, her affectionate nature wounded by the warning of Paul.
"Yes, since you tell me so, dearest; but, young as I am in the winding ways of the world, I am older than you, and the experience of Silas Craig's office has taught me many iniquitous secrets."
Augustus Horton had, as our readers are aware, many business transactions with the attorney and usurer, Craig. Despising the man most completely, it yet suited the young planter's purpose to employ him, for Silas was a master in the evil arts of chicanery; a useful lawyer for all business, but above all useful in such affairs as were of too dark and secret a nature to bear exposure to the light of day.
He was the attorney employed by Augustus Horton, by Don Juan Moraquitos, and by most of the wealthiest men in the city of New Orleans; men who affected ignorance of his character, because his style of doing business suited their purpose.