Something did. God, who gave you such beauty; or the Devil, who led me to look upon it.”
“What you say only causes me pain.
I do not suppose you are trying to flatter me.
You talk too earnestly for that.
But oh, cousin Cassius, ’tis a fancy from which you will easily recover.
There are others, far fairer than I; and many, who would feel complimented by such speeches.
Why not address yourself to them?”
“Why not?” he echoed, with bitter emphasis. “What an idle question!”
“I repeat it. It is not idle.
Far more so is your affection for me: for I must be candid with you, Cassius. I do not—I cannot, love you.”
“You will not marry me then?”
“That, at least, is an idle question.
I’ve said I do not love you.
Surely that is sufficient.”
“And I’ve said I love you.
I gave it as one reason why I wish you for my wife: but there are others.
Are you desirous of hearing them?”
As Calhoun asked this question the suppliant air forsook him.
The spirit of the jaguar was once more in his eye.
“You said there were other reasons.
State them! Do not be backward. I’m not afraid to listen.”
“Indeed!” he rejoined, sneeringly. “You’re not afraid, ain’t you?”
“Not that I know of.
What have I to fear?”
“I won’t say what you have; but what your father has.”
“Let me hear it?
What concerns him, equally affects me.
I am his daughter; and now, alas, his only—.
Go on, cousin Calhoun!
What is this shadow hanging over him?”
“No shadow, Loo; but something serious, and substantial.
A trouble he’s no longer able to contend with.
You force me to speak of things you shouldn’t know anything about.”
“Oh! don’t I?
You’re mistaken, cousin Cash.
I know them already.
I’m aware that my father’s in debt; and that you are his creditor.
How could I have remained in ignorance of it?
Your arrogance about the house—your presumption, shown every hour, and in presence of the domestics—has been evidence sufficient to satisfy even them, that there is something amiss.
You are master of Casa del Corvo. I know it.
You are not master of me!”
Calhoun quailed before the defiant speech.
The card, upon which he had been counting, was not likely to gain the trick.
He declined playing it.
He held a still stronger in his hand; which was exhibited without farther delay.
“Indeed!” he retorted, sneeringly. “Well; if I’m not master of your heart, I am of your happiness—or shall be.
I know the worthless wretch that’s driven you to this denial—”
“Who?”
“How innocent you are!”
“Of that at least I am; unless by worthless wretch you mean yourself.