“What can you mean, Miss Randolph?”
“A plantation.”
“A plantation!”
“Exactly so. Not your own, but one of which you are the proprietor.”
“Ah!”
“I mean that which formerly belonged to a family of half-bloods upon Tupelo Creek. Your father purchased it from them, I believe!”
I noted the emphasis upon the word “purchased.” I noted hesitation and some confusion in the reply.
“Yes—yes,” said he; “it was so. But you astonish me, Miss Randolph. Why care you for this, when you shall be mistress of all I possess?”
“That is my affair. I do care for it. I may have many reasons. That piece of ground is a favourite spot with me; it is a lovely place—I often go there. Remember, my brother is owner here—he is not likely to remain a bachelor all his life—and my mother may desire to have a home of her own. But no; I shall give you no reasons; make the gift or not, as you please.”
“And if I do, you will—”