'But, Larkin, you've a heart under your waistcoat; you won't lend yourself to the designs of such a consummate scoundrel as Hallet!'
'Scoundrel's a hard word, Mr. Kirke. 'Tain't used much round yere; when it ar, it draws blood like a lancet.'
'I mean no offence to you, Larkin; but it's true—I will prove it;' and I went on to detail my early acquaintance with Hallet; his vast profession and small performance of piety; his betrayal of Frank's mother; his treatment of his son, and all the damning record I have spread before the reader.
As I talked, Larkin rose, and walked the room, evidently affected; but, when I concluded, he said:
''Tain't no use, Mr. Kirke; I'd ruther ye wouldn't say no more. It makes me feel like the cholera. An' 'tain't no use! I've got ter buy th' gal.'
'You have not got to buy her! You need only go away. I will give you a thousand dollars, if you will go at once.'
'No, no, Mr. Kirke; I karn't do it. I'd like ter 'blige ye, and I need money like th' devil; but I karn't leave Hallet in th' lurch. 'Twouldn't be far dealin' 'tween man an' man. He trusts me ter do it, an' I'm in with him. I must act honest.'
'How in with him?'
'Why, he an' ole Roye ar tergether. The' find th' money fur my bis'ness—done it fur fifteen yar. The' git th' biggest sheer, but I karn't help myself, I went inter cotton, like a d—d fool, 'bout a yar ago, an' lost all I hed—every red cent; an' now I shud be on my beam ends ef it warn't fur them.'
'Then Hallet has made his money dealing in negroes!'