"Because I love her."
"Then one answer will do for both of us," said Augustus. "I want her because I love her."
"No," cried Gilbert, "no, Mr. Horton. Do not sully the pure and holy name of Love by so base a blasphemy. Yours is the low passion of the profligate who seeks to destroy that which he pretends to love. Mine is the honorable sentiment of the man who seeks to bestow upon her he adores the sacred name of wife."
"You Britishers have another way of thinking to what we have in Louisiana," answered Augustus; "we don't marry our slaves. However, I've no wish to quarrel with other folks' opinions; the girl's mine and I don't mean to part with her, so good day to you, Mr. Margrave."
Gilbert laid his hand upon the planter's shoulder.
"One moment," he said. "The sum which I offered just now for Miss Leslie was the extent of the ready money I possess; but it was not one-twentieth part of what I can command; communication with London, or even with New York, will bring me the funds I require. I ask you—as a gentleman appealing to a gentleman, upon a subject that is dearer to him than life—I ask you to do a great and generous action. Accept my note of hand for a hundred thousand dollars;—double the sum you have just given—and let me restore Cora Leslie to her father?"
Augustus Horton shrugged his shoulders.
"I would be very glad to oblige you, Mr. Margrave," he said; "but as I don't happen to want money just now, and as I've a fancy for keeping the Octoroon, I beg to decline your liberal offer."
Gilbert Margrave glanced at him with a scornful smile.
"I appealed to you as a gentleman," he said. "I was mistaken. You shall hear from me to-night."