“In this case mine can only grow more and more adverse,” replied Clara.
Ratcliff found it difficult to restrain himself from assuming the tone that chimes so well with the snap of the plantation scourge; and so he resolved to withdraw from the field for the present. He rose and said: “As we grow better acquainted, my dear, I am persuaded your feelings will change. I have no wish to force your affections. That would be unchivalrous towards one I propose to place in the relation of a wife.”
He laid a significant emphasis on this last word, wife; and Clara started as at some hideous object in her path. Was there, then, another relation in which he might seek to place her, if she persisted in her course? And then she recollected Estelle; and the flush of an angry disgust mounted to her brow. But she made no reply; and Ratcliff, with his hateful gaze devouring her beauties to the last, passed out of the room.
On the whole he felicitated himself on the interview. He thought he had kept his temper remarkably well, and had not allowed this privileged beauty to irritate him beyond the prudent point. He believed she could not resist so much suavity and generosity on his part. She had confessed she was heart-free: surely that was in his favor. It was rather provoking to have a slave put on such airs; but then, by Jove, she was worth enduring a little humiliation for. Possibly, too, it might be high blood that told in her. Possibly she might be that last scion of the Berwick stock which an untoward fate had swept far from all signs of parentage.
These considerations, while they disposed Ratcliff to leniency in judging of her waywardness, did but aggravate the importunity of his desires for the proposed alliance. Although hitherto his tastes had led him to admire the coarser types of feminine beauty, there was that in the very difference of Clara from all other women with whom he had been intimate, which gave novelty and freshness and an absorbing fascination to his present pursuit. The possession of her now was the prime necessity of his nature. That prize hung uppermost. Even Confederate victories were secondary. Politics were forgotten. He did not ask to see the newspapers; he did not seek to go abroad to confer with his political associates, and tell them all that he had seen and heard at Richmond. Semmes’s caution in regard to the danger of his being tracked had something to do with keeping him in the house; but apart from this motive, the mere wish to be under the same roof with Clara, till he had secured her his beyond all hazard, would have been sufficient to keep him within doors.
Ratcliff went down into the dining-room. The table was set for one. He thought it time to inquire into the arrangements of the household. He rang the bell, and it was answered by a slim, delicate looking mulatto man, having on the white apron of a waiter.
“What’s your name, and whose boy are you?” asked Ratcliff.
“My name is Sam, sir, and I belong to lawyer Semmes,” replied the man, smoothing the table-cloth, and removing a pitcher from the sideboard.
“What directions did he leave for you?”