“Guests who leave as unceremoniously as you did do not generally return to express their thanks,” answered Mr. Crawford, dryly. “It was [pg 323]a poor return you gave my daughter for her kindness.”
“What do you mean?” asked Calhoun, in surprise.
“I mean that leaving as you did subjected my daughter to much unjust criticism. An honorable man would have gone to prison rather than subjected the young lady to whom he owed his life to idle remarks.”
Calhoun felt every nerve in him tingle. His hot blood rushed through his veins like fire, he clenched his hands until his nails buried themselves in the palms. How he longed to throttle him and force the insult down his throat! But he was an old man; he was Joyce’s father. Then, as Joyce had never told him it was she who had planned the escape, it was not for him to speak. Controlling himself by a mighty effort, he calmly said: “Mr. Crawford, I am sorry you think so poorly of me, for I came here to ask of you the greatest boon you have to give on earth, that is your consent that I may pay my addresses to your daughter, and in due time make her my wife. I love her with my whole soul, and have reason to know that my love is returned.”
“And I had rather see my daughter dead than married to a Rebel and traitor, especially to one of Morgan’s men. You have my answer,” said Mr. Crawford, angrily.
“Why call me Rebel and traitor?” asked Calhoun. “Whatever I may have been, I am not that [pg 324]now. The government has pardoned; can you not be as generous as the government? as generous as your great generals, Grant and Sherman?”
“And the government will find out its mistake. Your punishment has not been what your sins deserve. Your lands should be taken from you and given to the poor beings you have enslaved these centuries. But we need not quarrel. You have had my answer concerning my daughter. Now go, and never let me see you again.”
“Mr. Crawford,” said Calhoun, rising, “you have been very outspoken with me, and I will be equally so with you. As to the terms you say should have been given the South, I will say that had such been even hinted at, every man, woman, and child in the South would have died on their hearthstones before yielding. But this is idle talk, as I trust there are but few in the North so remorseless as you. Now, as to your daughter; if she is willing, I shall marry her in spite of you. There is one raider of Morgan still in the saddle, and he will not cease his raid until he has carried away the fairest flower in Ohio.”
“Go,” cried Mr. Crawford, losing his temper, “go before I am forced to use harsher means.”
Before Calhoun could reply, before he could take a step, there was a swish of woman’s garments, and before the father’s astonished eyes there stood his daughter by the side of her lover. Her form was drawn to its full height, her bosom was heaving, her eyes were flashing. Taking her lover’s hand, [pg 325]she cried: “Father, what have you done? I love this man, love him with all my heart and soul, and he is worthy of my love. If I can never call him husband, no other man shall ever call me wife.”