Maxwell's mind, she was satisfied, was fixed upon the possession of her estates. She could not now entertain the belief which once, in her weak pity, she had countenanced, that the attorney could love her. O, no! God forbid that even the human heart can love, and, at the same time, persecute the object of its affections! It was her estates; and she half resolved to compromise with her tormentor by yielding him one-half of her property, on the condition of his restoring the other half, for she doubted not that he was able to do so. But there was something so debasing to her sentiment of truth and justice in the fact of bargaining with so base a man, that she could not conquer her prejudice, and finally determined to suffer everything rather than succumb to the villain.
Hope had not yet abandoned her. She had too much confidence in the omnipresent justice of an overruling Providence to doubt that all would yet end well.
Dido was her jailer, and she scarcely left the office, through which alone egress was had from the apartment of Emily. There she dozed away the day and night, freely indulging in the fashionable habit of "imbibing," to chase away the ennui of the heavy hours. Her liberal perquisites enabled her to gratify her appetite without stint or measure, though a sort of demi-consciousness of her responsibility deterred her from an entire abandonment to the pleasures of the cup.
The apartment in which Emily was confined was lighted by windows of stained glass, opening into the main office, so that there was no immediate connection with the open air. This fact rendered the room so secure that Dido rested perfectly easy from the fear of interruption, save from the front of the building.
The colored guardian, having imbibed rather inordinately one day, was disposed to court the favor of the sleepy god, and stretched herself at full length upon one of the easy lounges of the office. Her eyelids opened and closed languidly, as though she was about to sink away into dreamy unconsciousness, when she was startled by a loud knocking at the door.
"Who's dar?" shouted Dido, springing to her feet; for a visit to the office, at this season of the year, was of rare occurrence.
"Open the door, Max," responded a voice from the outside.
"Mr. Maxwell not here, sar," said the colored lady, partly opening the door.
"Not here!" returned the visitor, pushing into the office in spite of the negress, who was disposed to prevent his entrance. "Isn't Max in town?"
"No sar; he went away to de Norf about a monf ago."