“In one little word. I simply said no.”
“That little word will, no doubt, be enough. O Heaven! what is to become of us?”
“Dear father!” demands the beautiful girl, laying her hand upon his shoulder, with a searching look into his eyes; “why do you speak thus? Are you angry with me for refusing him? Surely you would not wish to see me the wife of Richard Darke?”
“You do not love him, Helen?”
“Love him! Can you ask? Love that man!”
“You would not marry him?”
“Would not—could not. I’d prefer death.”
“Enough; I must submit to my fate.”
“Fate, father! What may be the meaning of this? There is some secret—a danger? Trust to me. Let me know all.”
“I may well do that, since it cannot remain much longer a secret. There is danger, Helen—the danger of debt! My estate is mortgaged to the father of this fellow—so much as to put me completely in his power. Everything I possess, land, houses, slaves, may become his at any hour; this day, if he so will it. He is sure to will it now. Your little word ‘no,’ will bring about a big change—the crisis I’ve been long apprehending. Never mind! Let it come! I must meet it like a man. It is for you, daughter—you and your sister—I grieve. My poor dear girls; what a change there will be in your lives, as your prospects! Poverty, coarse fare, coarse garments to wear, and a log-cabin to live in! Henceforth, this must be your lot. I can hold out hope of no other.”