Could there be any doubt as to ids
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 dec
orated apartment in the pavilion on
the borders of Lake Pontchartrain, but
the Octoroon looked at the splendor
around her with a shudder.
She knew that it was not thus that
slaves were ordinarily treated, and she
knew the sinister meaning of this
seeming kindness.
The young mulattress who led Cora
to her apartment informed her that she
had been appointed to wait upon Miss
Leslie.
Cora smiled bitterly
“Who told you to call me Miss Les
lie?” she asked.
“My master, Mr. Horton.*
1 “Alas, my poor girl." answered Cora
j I un no longer Miss Leslie. lam a
I slave like yourself, with no name save
tii.it winch my imister chooses to give
me. He lias bought me; bought me at
the auction yonder. Name, fame, han
imiks-m'hi luui oven soul—aa tio
in the bitterness of her despair she
buried her face in her hands and sob
bed aloud.
The mulattress was touched to the
heart bv this burst of grief.
“My dear mistress, pray do not weep
thus,” she said. “You will be no slave
here, I know; for our master has had
these beautiful rooms prepared on pur
pose for you. and you are to be treated
as a queen.”
queen I” said Cora, hvsterically.
