“I will wait for you all my life,” said the young man.
Bending low, he kissed her hand in the palm, and with a bow to her father, strode from the room.
The Judge, waiting at the gate in the darkness, heard the far-off, monotonous galloping of Oliver's horse on the hard plantation road. He rode forward to meet him.
“Well!”
It was only a word.
“They declined.”
The father scarcely knew his son's voice, it was so wretched.
“What! Who declined? Did you see—”
“Both!”
Out in the darkness Judge Hampden broke forth into such a torrent of rage that his son was afraid for his life and had to devote all his attention to soothing him. He threatened to ride straight to Drayton's house and horsewhip him on the spot. This, however, the young man prevented, and the two rode home together in a silence which was unbroken until they had dismounted at their own gate and given their horses to the waiting servants. As they entered the house, Judge Hampden spoke.