"But I protest against it. I cannot consent."
"Mamma," he said, in the tone she so well remembered, "is not my life even partially my own? What is your idea of a man whom both law and custom make his own master? Even as a woman you chose for yourself at the proper age. What strange infatuation do you cherish that you can imagine that a son of Willard Merwyn has no life of his own to live? It is now just as impossible for me to idle away my best years in a foreign land as it would be for me to return to my cradle. I shall look after your interests and comfort to the best of my ability, and, if you decide to return to New York, you shall be received with every courtesy."
"I shall never return to New York. I would much prefer to go to my plantation and share the fortunes of my own people."
"I supposed you would feel in that way, and I will do all in my power to further your wishes, whatever they may be. My wishes, in personal matters, are now equally entitled to respect. I shall carry them out;" and with a bow that precluded all further remonstrance he left the room.
A day or two later she asked, abruptly, "Will you use your means and influence against the South?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Merwyn's face became rigid, but nothing more was said. When he bade her good-by there was an evident struggle in her heart, but she repressed all manifestations of feeling, and mother and son parted.
CHAPTER XVII.
COMING TO THE POINT.
WHEN the tide has long been rising the time comes for it to recede. From the moment of Marian's awakening to a desire for a better womanhood, she had been under a certain degree of mental excitement and exaltation. This condition had culminated with the events that wrought up the loyal North into suspense, anguish, and stern, relentless purpose.