"You have paid a greater price for it, my child, than it is worth, and you are entitled to it."
"Besides, dear father, if Mr. Milburn needs any reminder of his promise to repay mamma's dowry, this will give it. He intended his gift to be my marriage dower, and were I to convey it to you I should first ask his consent; not in law, perhaps, but in delicacy."
"Oh, yes," the Judge said carelessly, "I am glad you have such good reasons. Yet, my beautiful, my last child,—pride of my race! I hate to see you so ready for this business—this calculation and foresight. It is not like the Custises. I fear this man, Milburn, in a single day has thrown his net around your nature, and annexed you to his sordid existence. At this moment the redeeming thing about you is that you cannot love him."
"Dear father, thoughts like that beset me, too—the pride of aristocracy, the remembrance of what has been; but I want to be honest and not to cheat my heart or any person. We have fallen from our height; he has raised himself from his condition; and there is no deception in my conduct. He knows I do not love him. Instead of standing upon an obdurate heart, I pray God to melt my nature and mould it to his affection!"
Regarding her a moment with increasing interest, Judge Custis came forward and kissed her forehead.
"Amen, then!" he said. "May you love your husband! I will do all I can to love him, too."
"That is spoken like a true man," Vesta said. "And now, father, good-night! Be ready here for Mr. Milburn's arrival. Ring for a decanter and some cake. It will not hurt you, after your fast, to drink a glass of sherry with the bridegroom."
He kissed her and felt her trembling in his arms. As she started to go, she returned and clung to him again. Her face was pale with fear.
"Oh, dreadful God!" he muttered, "to visit my many sins upon this spotless angel! Where shall I fly?"
A step was upon the porch, and Vesta flashed up the stairway.