Every word went like an ice-bolt to my heart. I could not speak. Then, as his eyes glared with a mingled look of hatred and of brutal passion, he sipped his wine as he surveyed me, and continued:
"You used the word 'bought' some time ago. You were right. 'Bought' is the word. You are simply my purchase. In Constantinople these things are easily managed; they keep an open market of fine girls there; but here we must find an affable mother, and pay a huge price—sometimes even marry the dear angels. I met your mother in Paris some years ago, and have been intimately acquainted with her ever since. When she first spoke of you, you were a child and I was weary of the world—jaded, sick of its pleasures, by which I mean its women. An idea struck me! What if this pretty little child, now being educated in innocence and pious ways, and so forth, should, in the full blossom of her beauty and piety—say at the ripe age of sixteen—become the consoler of my declining years? And so I paid the expenses of your education (your father consenting that I should adopt you, but very possibly understanding the whole matter as well as your mother), and you were accordingly educated for me. And when I first saw you, three months ago, it was your very innocence and pious way of talking which gave an irresistible effect to your beauty, and made me mad to possess you at all hazards."
It is impossible to depict the bitter mocking tone in which these words were spoken.
"I settled this mansion, the furniture, and so forth upon your mother, with ten thousand dollars. That was the price. You see how much you have cost me, my dear."
"But I will leave your accursed mansion." I felt, as I spoke, as though my heart was dead in my bosom. "I am not chained to you in marriage; I am, at least, free." I started to my feet and moved a step toward the door.
"But where will you go? back to your elderly clerical friend, with every finger leveled at you and every voice whispering 'There goes the mistress of the rich Englishman!' Back to your village lover to palm yourself upon him as a pure and spotless maiden?"
I sank into a chair and covered my face with my hands.
"Or will you begin the life of a poor seamstress, working sixteen hours per day for as many pennies, and at last, take to the streets for bread?"
His words cut me to the quick. I saw that there was no redemption in this world for a woman whose innocence has been sacrificed.
"But think better of it, my dear. Your mother shall surround you with the most select and fashionable company in New York,—she shall give splendid parties,—you will be the presiding genius of every festival. As for myself, dropping the name of husband, I will sink into an unobtrusive visitor. When you see a little more of the world you will not think your case such a hard one after all."