"Mr. Maxwell, if you have a particle of honor left, or if even a shadow of pity rests in your heart, leave me, and finish your despicable persecution!" said Emily, in a pleading tone.
"I have both honor and pity; but I cannot abandon my purpose. You refused to trust to my honor, refused to receive the offered hand, which would lead you back to the home you have left. I would fain have averted the calamity you are madly courting; but you would not. I humbly prayed to be allowed to step between you and your uncle's avarice; but you would not. I would willingly have prevented the accomplishment of your uncle's plans; but—"
"Then you own that it is a plot?"
"I acknowledge nothing."
"But you know it is a base trick?"
"It is not for me to say. The law will be satisfied. I have offered to do all I could for you, and you have refused. You appeal to my pity. Pity! did you pity me when I would have been your willing slave,—when I pleaded for the hope you have ruthlessly crushed?"
"I did pity you; but I could not help you. I could not then, and I cannot now, give my hand where my heart is uninterested. I feared you then, as I despise you now. Report said your character was not entirely free from stain, and you are now striving to demonstrate the truth of the rumors," said Emily, whose contempt would not be concealed.
"Report may have belied me," replied Maxwell, struggling with his violent passions. "But we are wasting time. Proceed with me to Vicksburg, and I pledge you my honor you shall not be injured or insulted."
"Your honor!" said Emily, bitterly. "It is but a poor dependence for an unprotected female."
"Gently, Miss Dumont! Do not rouse the demon within me by such taunts."