“Why should I not refuse him?” she said. “There is but one cause for marriage, and that does not here exist. Do you, for an instant, suppose that I, my father’s daughter, one of the Ayrs of Virginia, would marry a man for his millions, and his houses, and his yachts, and his pearls?”
She hit these several objects off, with a tone which seemed to turn them into chips, and blocks, and sawdust, and shavings, and then, with a sudden softening of all her face, a sudden lowering of her voice and another blush, she said, as she sank back into her seat:
“Besides—to settle the matter at once—I am engaged.”
“Engaged!” said her cousins together, and Gladys added:
“To whom, pray? Some neighbor in Virginia?”
Then, once more, Carter sprang to her feet, and stood there palpitating, as she said:
“Yes—to a neighbor in Virginia!—a man whose only earthly possession is a small farm, which is all that is left of a great estate. But he is a man, and not a dude—and he works, instead of playing, and has paid off thousands of dollars of debts which he did not make, working day and night for the money, which, after all, is less than you are accustomed to see thrown away at a day’s racing! He is not fashionable, and you would scorn his looks and his dress, too, as you did mine, if he were to come among you—but he is handsomer and stronger than any man I’ve seen here—and dearer and better than any man in all the world! Do you think I’d give up such a man as that for money?” (accentuated as if it had been dirt!) “You don’t know him, you don’t know me, you don’t know Virginia if you can think that! I like Mr. Stafford, and I hope you are wrong in what you think; but if not, I believe he would understand me, whether you do or not.”
“Carter,” said her cousin, insistently, “are you going to be fool enough to throw away such a chance as this, for the sake of a mere school-girl’s sentiment? You can’t play fast and loose, after your Southern fashion, with a man like Jim Stafford. If you throw him aside to-day, you can’t count on getting him back.”
Carter’s eyes were fairly blazing. She moved toward the door, but before she passed it, she turned, and said proudly:
“What I have to say to Mr. Stafford is my own affair and his. You would not understand, but he, I think, would.”