Part 114 (1/2)
Alas! there was much also to render it, if not agreeable, at least not to be slightingly set aside.
Indecision--perhaps more than the sorrow for his son's loss dictated the character of his reply.
”If I understand you aright, nephew, you mean _marriage_! Surely it is not the time to talk of it now--while death is in our house! To think of such a thing would cause a scandal throughout the settlement.”
”You mistake me, uncle. I do not mean marriage--that is, not _now_.
Only something that will secure it--when the proper time arrives.”
”I do not understand you, Cash.”
”You'll do that, if you only listen to me a minute.”
”Go on.”
”Well; what I want to say is this. I've made up my mind to get married.
I'm now close upon thirty--as you know; and at that time a man begins to get tired of running about the world. I'm d.a.m.nably tired of it; and don't intend to keep single any longer. _I'm willing to have Loo for my wife_. There need be no hurry about it. All I want now is her promise; signed and sealed, that there may be no _fluke_, or uncertainty. I want the thing settled. When these _bothers_ blow past, it will be time enough to talk of the wedding business, and that sort of thing.”
The word ”bothers,” with the speech of which it formed part, grated harshly on the ear of a father, mourning for his murdered son!
The spirit of Woodley Poindexter was aroused--almost to the resumption of its old pride, and the indignation that had oft accompanied it.
It soon cowered again. On one side he saw land, slaves, wealth, position; on the other, penury that seemed perdition.
He did not yield altogether; as may be guessed by the character of his reply.
”Well, nephew; you have certainly spoken plain enough. But I know not my daughter's disposition towards you. You say you are willing to have her for your wife. Is she willing to have you? I suppose there is a question about that?”
”I think, uncle, it will depend a good deal upon yourself. You are her father. Surely you can _convince_ her?”
”I'm not so sure of that. She's not of the kind to be convinced-- against her will. You, Cash, know that as well as I.”
”Well, I only know that I intend getting 'spliced,' as the sailors say; and I'd like Loo for the _mistress of Casa del Corvo_, better than any other woman in the Settlement--in all Texas, for that matter.”
Woodley Poindexter recoiled at the ungracious speech. It was the first time he had been told, that he was not the _master_ of Casa del Corvo!
Indirectly as the information had been conveyed, he understood it.
Once more rose before his mind the reality of lands, slaves, wealth, and social status--alongside, the apparition of poverty and social abas.e.m.e.nt.
The last looked hideous; though not more so than the man who stood before him--his own nephew--soliciting to become his son!
For purposes impossible to comprehend, G.o.d often suffers himself to be defeated by the Devil. In this instance was it so. The good in Poindexter's heart succ.u.mbed to the evil. He promised to a.s.sist his nephew, in destroying the happiness of his daughter.
”Loo!”
”Father!”
”I come to ask a favour from you.”
”What is it, father?”