“An execution—that will sweep off all the furniture from the house, and all the negroes from the plantation; parting husbands and wives, and parents and children, and brothers and sisters, among those poor, faithful creatures who love you so well. And for your father’s person, a jail, where he may be for years, or until he dies.”
“Oh, pray don’t talk to me any more, my head is so wild, so wandering, it wants to go back to something,” said the poor thing, pressing her temples, and strongly attracted to her one great wo.
“But your father!”
“Yes! Oh, only tell me what you want me to do!”
“To marry Major Cabell, who will then have the disposal of your fortune, and can cover those notes and save your father.”
“But—oh, yes! Now I remember. Father said there was no necessity! I needn’t do it!” said the girl, pressing her finger hard upon the centre of her forehead, and looking keen and old with the mental effort to bring memory, attention and understanding to bear upon the subject. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,—he said I should weep in peace.”
“Yes, your poor old father loves you better than himself. And he said that sooner than you should marry a man you did not love, he would die in jail.”
“Did he? My dear good father! Oh, yes! now I think of it, it was something like that, sure enough! Only my head is so queer! He must not go to jail—oh, never!”
“He must, unless you marry Major Cabell, and save him.”
“Well, I can marry Major Cabell—it don’t matter much—do you think it does? Spirits up in Heaven know nothing of what is going on on earth, or they know all about it, and either is better than our deceptive half-knowledge. If spirits know anything, they will know our spirit. Dear Frank will know—will know my spirit—nay, he does! I feel sure of it at this moment. I will marry Major Cabell.”