“But to leave improbable things also. Could you wake up in the morning and find that you had only dreamed her death, and see her by your side—living, beautiful, loving—would you not clasp her to your heart in joy, exclaiming: ‘Oh, dearest wife, I have had such a dreadful dream! It seemed, too, so very real. I dreamed that you were dead, Alice. Thank God, it was nothing but a dream! Now, ask me what you will, Alice, for I am so happy to know I have you yet—to know that you have not gone from my side, but are here—here!—that I can refuse you nothing.’ Would those not be your words and feelings? And what would Alice say—what would Alice ask? What was nearest her heart when she fell asleep? What would she say could she now be restored, and should you ask her what would make her happy, but ‘Father, be reconciled to your daughter!’ General Garnet, the same letter that announced our sudden and mutual bereavement, the letter of that Christian minister, expressed a hope that the hand of Death, which had led our friend away from our midst, leaving us all in a common sorrow, might reunite our hands in amity. General Garnet, that hope is my prayer. I entreat you, take my hand!”
General Garnet recoiled a step, and answered scornfully:
“Sir, I know you for an orator of old. But if you hope to work upon my feelings through the sorrow of my recent and very sudden loss, you deceive yourself. And now, hear me! Could—as you have put the question—could the doors of my wife’s tomb fly open—and could she be restored to me, living, loving, in all the beauty and goodness of her being—could such impossibilities occur—and should the first boon she craved to bless her renewed life be the reconciliation you desire, that boon would be refused, though that refusal should send her back into the grave! Now I hope you understand me thoroughly.”
Dr. Hardcastle nodded his head several times, keeping time to his thoughts, as he said, in his heart:
“And little do you surmise, poor man, that your refusal will send her back to the grave—for you! That she will be indeed dead—to you!”
General Garnet, taking this nod for one of assent, added:
“And now, I hope, sir, that no more false hopes may be raised upon me. Neither you nor your wife need ever expect anything at my hands. By my fireside, and at my board, and in my heart, the place of the late Miss Garnet is filled. This little girl, sir, is my daughter and heiress. I have regularly and legally adopted her. The late Miss Garnet had, but for your reminder, passed from my memory. Mrs. Hardcastle is an alien and a stranger, and I desire that she remain such. I beg you also to remember, sir, that, though I have a slight electioneering acquaintance with Dr. Hardcastle, such as every prominent politician may have with persons not to be recognized under any other circumstances, I do not wish even that acquaintance to continue. And I beg you to recollect that I have never even seen Mrs. Hardcastle, and never wish to see her. I do not know the person, and never wish to know her. Have you anything more to advance, Dr. Hardcastle?”
“Yes, sir!” said Magnus, drawing himself up, and as his fine chest expanded, looking at his adversary with a brow, a glance that made him quail and drop his eyes. “You have dared to misrepresent my purpose in coming to you, or else you have naturally mistaken my motives—naturally, for it may not be in your nature to understand them. Yet, no, it is not so. You do not mistake me. And do not dare to affect it again. You know that your fortune is nothing—absolutely nothing—to me, and never was. So little do rank and fortune weigh with me against hearts and souls that, had I been a millionaire and had Elsie been the child of a beggar instead of a daughter of General Garnet, and the heiress of Mount Calm, I would have taken her to my bosom in the face of all the world. And, more—further, had Elsie possessed, in her own inalienable right, hundreds of millions, and I possessed no more than the clothes I wore, I would have married her, and not thanked her for the millions she brought me, but simply loved her for the beauty, the goodness, the love, the dear womanhood she gave me. So little do I value money where nature and affection are concerned. As it is, we are both poor, both will have to work hard. Elsie has chosen her lot in life, and shall abide by it. Even you, her father, shall not rescue her from it with your wealth. You cannot change her destiny. Your fortune could not do it. I am resolved to make, to command whatever success may be in life for us. Yet”—he added, with a softening brow and tone—“yet, father of my dear wife—for her sake, for your own, for mine, I would be reconciled with you. Spite of all the bitter things written upon your forehead, and spoken by your lips, and which I do not think your heart indorses, I would be at peace with you; bitter talk is but hasty breath. Let us forget it. Let us be friends. Now, then, for the last time I offer you my hand. For the last time, I beseech you take it.”
General Garnet frowned darkly and averted his head.
But Nettie, who had been gazing kindly and admiringly at the speaker, now suddenly thrust out her little hand, and, emphatically striking it into the broad, open palm of Magnus, exclaimed cordially: