The tremor of the dimple in her chin and the marked effort which she made to steady her voice, showed that she was much agitated. Had she not been expecting the man who was to take away her home for a paltry sum of unpaid money? She had looked upon the Yankee who held her fathers notes as little more than a thief. And now that her father had died, she seriously considered him in the light of a murderer. She thought of his agent as his "minion," whom it was clearly due her dignity to resist. The case had been the talk of the scraggly village, and the judge of the district, who was reputed to know the intricacies of all the law that ever was tabulated, asserted vehemently in her presence that to eject her from her home was an outrage that could not and would not be permitted as long as the able-bodied men of Cherokee could carry a gun. This testimony of Southern chivalry the girl fully believed.
And now the invader had come at last. She clutched the gate and collected herself to meet him.
"No, miss, that is—is this William Benson's?—I mean——" Ellesworth halted, remembering that his debtor was no more, and not wishing to remind her of the fact. "Was this his place?"
The magnificent girl looked at him over that fence and measured him. Yes, the worst had come at last, and an uncalled-for insult with it. How the stranger gloated over the fact that the place was not her father's! She drew herself to her full height; her black eyes blazed; her cheeks became carmine. She could hardly control her voice from indignation.
"You mistake, sir. This is his place, and I think, sir, it will remain so."
She looked at him fiercely and waited to let that sentiment fructify in the young man's soul.
"Indeed, I—I hope so," ventured Ellesworth.
Disregarding this as a feeble attempt at apology, she asked,—
"What is your name, sir? Do you come from him? Or are you he?"
The contempt which she cast into the personal pronouns had a marked effect upon Ellesworth. The mere fact that a woman, for whom at first sight he felt a greater admiration than he had ever bestowed elsewhere, should be so antagonistic to him at the start, made his heart contract within him. Yet he managed to pull himself together and say, with admirable feint,—