Hatchie, the Guardian Slave Part 15

"But, Miss Dumont," continued Maxwell, "I could not thus have sacrificed myself for every client. My health and strength, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, would have given way, and the case have been lost."

"Indeed, sir, you may rely on the fullest and most substantial acknowledgment for the service you have rendered. My purse shall be entirely at your disposal," responded Emily, warmly and innocently.

"Money, Miss Dumont, would not have tempted me to make the sacrifice of health and comfort which this exertion has required of me. I have done all my humble talents would permit from a higher motive. I look for my reward in the consciousness of having done my duty."

"I trust, Mr. Maxwell, you will receive the great reward which is sure to follow every n.o.ble and true action."

Emily was sadly perplexed to understand this new and singular phenomenon.

"The act itself is its own reward," said Maxwell, with an attempt to counterfeit humility, which was very awkward, but which deceived Emily, agitated as she was by hopes and fears.

"But, as I said," continued he, "I would not have done this for every client, and I trust you will pardon me when I say the only reward I look forward to is your smile of approval."

"I certainly cannot but approve of the motives which have actuated you, and your actions perhaps I could better appreciate if my knowledge of them was more extensive," responded Emily, disappointed and displeased, as her suspicions were reawakened.

But a faint smile rested upon her beautiful features, as if to soften, the reproof she had administered, and to conceal her rising emotions.

She felt that Maxwell could a.s.sist her, but she feared every moment that some allusion to the prohibited subject would compel her to banish him from her presence.

"A smile from you were an ample reward for all my trouble and exertion,"

said Maxwell, deceived by the smile of Emily. "To be as sincere as your generous nature demands, I cannot conquer the love I have before expressed. I--"

"Excuse me, sir," indignantly interrupted Emily, "I must retire."

"Nay, nay, Miss Dumont! I meant no offence. Hear me but for a moment!"

"Not another instant, sir! You have deceived me."

"Upon my honor, I have not. I possess the evidence by which your birthright and possessions may be restored."

"No more! I had rather die in poverty, with the stain clinging to me, than owe the restoration of my rights to you. You have taken advantage of my unprotected condition to impose upon me."

"You wrong me, Miss Dumont; as, if you will remain but a moment, I will prove to you," said Maxwell, pleading like an injured man.

Maxwell's peculiar tone and penitent air made Emily pause, and perhaps think she had spoken too hastily. All the wrong of which she could accuse him was, that he loved her. She felt that this was not a crime.

The remembrance of wrongs she knew he had inflicted upon others, perhaps weak and unprotected like herself, nerved her resolution, and to a word of love from him she could not listen. She wished to conciliate him, if possible, but not at the expense of her self-respect.

"Why have you detained me all this time to listen to a story with which I was before as familiar as yourself? Why have you used the language of love, which a refusal to hear now renders insolent?"

"I have offended you, Miss Dumont," said he, in the humblest tones; "can I hope to be forgiven?"

"Your future conduct alone can secure my forgiveness."

"Then I solemnly promise never again to allude to the admiration with which I have regarded your matchless beauty, or to mention the love which now consumes my heart."

"I trust you are sincere," said Emily, not knowing whether to smile or frown upon this making and breaking the promise in the same breath. The deep anxiety she felt for her future fate made her disposed to forget the past, and in a gentler tone she expressed her forgiveness.

Maxwell imagined that, at last, his star was in the ascendant. His experience of woman-kind only indicated that he had been too precipitate, and that the reserve, even the refusal he had received, were only the accidents of the moment, not the natural expression of an indifferent heart. His a.s.surance increased as he reflected. He was led to believe that he might, now that the ice-barrier was removed, be more unreserved in his wooing. His perseverance had now overcome all obstacles, and the prize was in his grasp.

"I have a plan to propose," said he, "which will immediately secure to you all your rights."

"Pray what is it?" asked Emily, eagerly.

"As you have forbidden me to speak of love, I am placed in a very unfortunate position. In short, you can obtain possession of your estate by returning as my wife."

This last sentence was said in a whisper, and in a tone of a.s.surance, as though he felt she would gladly accept the alternative.

"Sir!" exclaimed Emily, aghast with astonishment and indignation, for the abruptness of the degrading proposition nearly deprived her of the power of speech.

"Even so, Emily. I have the power to restore your rights, and will do so on this condition. The ceremony may be performed at Natchez, where we shall arrive to-night; or, if you fear I promise more than I can perform, I will draw up an agreement, which you shall sign, to the effect that you will accept my hand on the restoration of your rights. I will give you two hours to think of it; and if, at the end of that time, you accept the proposal, I will at once take the necessary steps to regain your fortune, and remove the stigma which rests on your name."

"Never, sir, never! I will die a beggar before I will owe my prosperity to such a contract!" exclaimed Emily, whose indignation now found utterance.

"I beg madam will reflect before she decides," said Maxwell, in a satirical tone.

"Sir, I will die upon the rack, before the hand of a villain shall lead me to the altar!" answered Emily, unable to control her feelings.

"Softly, lady, softly!"

"Leave me, sir! leave me, or I will call upon my uncle to protect me from further insult!"

"Your _uncle_, I fear, was left at the last wood-yard; so I heard my friend De Guy say."

Emily felt herself the victim of a plot, and, rousing all her energies, she said,

"I see it all. The machinations of a villain--for such you are--shall be foiled."

"Miss Dumont," said Maxwell, his pa.s.sions roused by the severity of her epithet, "do you forget your condition? You are a _slave_! Your supposed uncle is not here. You have no free papers, and are liable to be committed to the next jail."

"But I am not without a friend who is able to protect me," said Emily, with spirit, as she saw Henry Carroll ascend to the deck upon which they stood.

"Your friend is helpless. Another word, and I will proclaim your condition," and he rudely seized her by the arm. "Your friend cannot help you. He has not your free papers."

"But he has a strong arm!" shouted Henry Carroll, as with a single blow he struck the attorney to the deck.

"This way, Emily," said he to the weeping girl, who clung tremblingly to him; "you are safe now."

Emily was conducted by the gallant arm which had protected her from we know not what indignity. She felt secure in his presence from further molestation, and his soothing words and hopeful promises did much to restore her.

Maxwell soon recovered from the effects of the blow he had received, and, boiling with pa.s.sion, swore vengeance upon the man who had interrupted him. But his pa.s.sion was of short duration, and was succeeded by sober reflections upon the "position of his case." Emily Dumont was not of that cla.s.s of women with whom he was accustomed to deal. He had found in her an element with which he had not before been conversant,--of which, indeed, he had read in books of poetry, but did not believe it existed in the material world.

CHAPTER XI.

"Caught, caught In thine own trap! Thou hast confessed it all,-- The means, the end, the motive,--laid all Bare!

O, thou poor knave!--and that convenient friend Who swears or unswears, speaks or holds his peace, At thy command,--you have conspired together!"

LOVELL.