“Now, Mr. Maxwell,” said the Colonel as they sat sipping the fragrant mixture sent out to them by Mrs. Thomson by the unfortunate Tennie, “you said something about no dispute over my being next of kin. Kindly explain that remark.”
“Certainly,” replied Warren, smiling. “This is my second trip to America in two years, hunting up the Carlingford heirs. I thought I had found Lord George’s younger son, Henry, on my first trip, but after a fruitless chase, I was forced to give it up. We are convinced that he is dead and without issue.”
“Just so! Poor Henry! His was a sad fate. But it was his destiny. Do you believe in destiny, my young friend?”
“I believe that many things we call destiny may be overcome by resolving to conquer difficulties, not allowing them to conquer us.”
“True, very true,” replied the Colonel, meditatively.
“Mr. Maxwell, you have expressed the position of our people to a dot concerning the little difficulty we are having with Kansas. Now the North thinks they’re going to beat in the fight, and the fools are going to try to fight us, but it’s the destiny of the South to rule in this glorious country, an’ if it ain’t our destiny we’ll make it so, d——d if we don’t when I get the boys fixed. Got a cool two hundred and fifty coming down here from Virginia nex’ week; boys who don’ care a cuss what they do so long as they beat the Free States out.”
“Thomson,” broke in the Colonel, “it appears to me that I have seen Mr. Maxwell before. What do you say?”
“I reckon you have. Don’ you remember our hunting trip up at Erie two years ago? and the murder of White Eagle?”
“Sure enough! Mr. Maxwell was the young Englishman who took such a prominent part in the affair.”
Warren bowed gravely.