Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-12-05
THE OCT0ROOu
4 sTORY OF sLAvERY D.4rs.

A sTORY OF SLA FIERY D.4TS.
 'And I have found better fortune" she would say, lifting her expressive eyes to the dark face of her naughty em ,loyer; ".or where could l have hoped to meet a nobier patron or to find dea"er friends or happier home than 1 have here. Ah bless you, noble Span!ard, for your goodness to the helpless stranser.'
 It was in the summer that Pauline Corsi first came to Villa Moraquitos. and it was in the winter of the same year that Don Tomaso Crivelli expired in the arms of his brothcr-in-law.
 We must request the reader to bear this in mind. for on the truth of certain dates hangs much of the taie of mystery and crime which we are about to reveal.
 Tho go5sips of New Orleans were ready to insinuate that the Spaniard's heart would surely bo in little danger from the presence Of so young and lovely a woman as the French governess, hut thcy soon grew tired of whispering this, for it was speedily perceived by all who knew Don Juan Moraquitos that his heart was buried in the mausoleum of his fair young wife, Olympia, and that all the love of which his proud nature was capable was lavished on his only child.
 Some girls in the position of Pauline Corsi might have nourishcd ambitious hopes. and might have angled for the heart and hand of the wealthy Spaniard: but it. was impossible to suspect the light hearted and frivolous young Frsnchwoman of the m aan vices of the schemer She was thing of sunshine and glaincss gay and needless as the birds she tended in her chamber, care lers of the morrow as the flower that perfumHd her balcony. So thought all who knew Pauline Corsi. Did any of them know her rightly?
 The hideous skeleton. Time, whose bony hand lifts, inch by inch and day by day, the dark and pall-liko curtain that hangs before the vast stage of tho fu ture. can alone answer this question. Camilla Moraquitos was much at l tachcd to her old governess. All her varied accomplishments she owed te Mademois elle Corsi and, far too gener ous and high-minded to consider the | handsome salary paid to the French woman sufficient recompense for her services, she looked upon Pauline's de. votion to her as an obligation which | could be only repaid by gratitude and affection.
 The young heiress had often endeav- | ored to bestow some handsome present upon her instructress Ia valuable article of jewelry-a ring, chain, bracelet), bui always to be firmly, though kindly, re ulsod.
 No, Camilla" Mademoiselle Corsi | wo id reply. Il will take no gift from you but affeetion-that is a priceless l treasure. Bestow that upon me, and you would amply reward me for a life l inc of devotion; the few brief years l have given to your instruction have 1 been more than repaid by my pupils l love-"
 daughty and reserved as Camilla was l to mere acquainlances, she was almost l ioolishly contiding to those whom she | loved.
 she had never kept q secret from Pau | line Corsi until within this last year, and | even then she won!d have told all to her trusted companion. had sne not been 1 forbidden to do SO by one whom she | loved even better than the French l woman.
 1 1nis secret was the engagement be- | :vnon herself and Paut Lisimon. l .Iou will not breathe one word to q | mortal of the VOWS which bind Us until l iaath, will you, my Cam;llia?" said the young man. as, intoxicated with happi- ness, he pressed his betrothed to his l wildly throbbinS heart.
 l To no one. dearest answered Ca l niliia, until your position will warrant l you in asking my fathers consent to o IT union. That is to say" she added, l >eeitatingly, ito no one but Pauline. l l shall be so anxious to talk of you, and 1 hnow I can trust her.
 1 Not one word to Her, Camilla, sS l you love me-" exclaimed Paul, with energy.
 What? you mistrust my faithful l Pauiine:"
 l II mistrust no one," answered Lisi- mon; yet. paradoxical as it may seem, | l trust scarcely any one. To give your | l. ,, l to give your lfe-nay, the better part of fife; for those secrets appertain to the in- most sentiment of your heart. No, l Camilla, tell nothing until that day comes, when, proud and triumphant, 1 can claim you before your father and the | world"
 "But you believe Pauline to be all that is good?' urged Camilla, her affectionate l nature wounded by tho warning of Paul.
 "Yes, since ySu tell me so, dearest ] but, young as l am in the winding ways l of the world, 1 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 l with the attorney and uSurer, Crai, Despisng the man most completely, ii
 yet suited the young planters purpose
 to employ him, for Siia5 was a master in the evil arts of chicanery; a useful law
 yer for all business, but above all useful
 m such affairs as were of too dark anC
 secret a nature to bear exposure to the
 light of day.
 He was the attorney employed by Au
 gustus Horton, by Don uan Moraquitos
 and by most of tho wealthiest men fL
 the city of New Orleans; men who af
 fected ignorance of his character, be
 cause his style of doing business suited
 their purpose.
 It was at Silas Craig's office that Au
 gustus Horton first saw Paul Lisimon. The two men encountered each othe
 in an office opening out of the private
 room occupied by the attorney.
 Paul was seated at his desk, copying
 decd; he looked up only for momen
 as the planter entered the apartment
 and immediately returned to his work
 He knew that the visitor was his rival
 Augustus Horton, but, secure in the low
 of Camilla, he was utterly indifferent to
 his presence. Not so the planter. H.
 looked long and earnestly at the hand
 somc and Spanish face of the youn! l Mexican.