“He holds a mortgage on Lakeside; and as I am not able to meet even the full interest at present, he can foreclose and rob us of the home our father made for us—the dear home where we were all born, and where father and mother died. Is not that a hard alternative?” Miriam asked, hot tears streaming from her eyes.
“Dreadful! dreadful! But has he actually threatened it? has he presumed to offer himself to you? He who isn’t fit to wipe the dust from your shoes!” she added, in wrathful accents.
“Yes; he has done both,” sighed Miriam; then went on to tell of an interview held with Bangs on the previous afternoon in the grove adjacent to the house at Lakeside.
Feeling entitled to an hour of recreation, after many spent in overseeing the men in the field, and attending to domestic duties about the house, she had gone to the grove with a book, and while pleasingly absorbed in its contents had been surprised by a visit from Bangs, who, in spite of a reception of studied coldness, had forced his society upon her and made her an offer of his hand, professing to have already bestowed his heart upon her.
“Heart, indeed!” exclaimed Serena, in hot indignation; “he doesn’t own anything worthy of the name. I hope you told him so.”
“Not exactly that,” Miriam said, with the ghost of a smile; “but my reply was as unequivocal and decided a rejection of his suit as I knew how to make it. Then he grew furious, and haughtily informed me that he would find means to compel me to accept him or he would ruin the whole family, as he had bought the mortgage from Mr. Himes, and could foreclose when he pleased.”
“Himes!” exclaimed Serena. “Oh, did you hear the news that was telegraphed from Fairfield this morning?”
“No; what was it?”
“That Mr. Himes was attacked on his raft shortly before daylight, robbed, and nearly murdered.”
“Oh, how dreadful! But he was not quite killed?”