Part 31 (2/2)
Nothing is left but to make her repent her action. I will bring that father of hers to the dust, if only to revenge the long list of injuries his race has inflicted on mine!”
CHAPTER XIX.
”PLAY OUT YOUR FARCE.”
When Daisy left the house where she had the interview with Hannibal, she walked for some minutes aimlessly along the street. Her mind was in a state of great excitement. She realized that she had defied a man who could inflict the deepest injury on the father she dearly loved. How she could have done otherwise was not at all clear, but the terror which hung over her was none the less keen. The proposal of the negro--to marry her--filled her with a nameless dread that made her teeth chatter, though it was a warm day. Rather would she have cast her body into the tides that wash the sh.o.r.es of Manhattan Island. Even to save her father from prison--if it came to that--she could not make this sacrifice. She now felt for Hannibal a horrible detestation, a feeling akin to that she might entertain for a rattlesnake. Whatever good she had seen in him in other days had vanished under the revelations of his true character.
What to do next was the absorbing question. A great danger hung over her father. A dim idea of seeking the mayor--or the chief of police--and imploring their mercy, entered her brain. Then she thought of Roseleaf, whose aid she might have secured, if he had not proved himself a double-dealer, capable of making love to herself and Millicent at the same time. And then came the resolve to seek out Mr. Weil, the one person in all this trouble that seemed clear of wrong. Her sister had told her that he loved her. Well, if necessary she would marry him. At least he was a man of honor, and white. Yes, she would go to him and throw herself upon his mercy.
Daisy knew that Archie made his headquarters at the Hoffman House, and summoning a cab she asked to be taken to that hotel. Ensconced in the ladies' parlor she awaited the coming of the man she wanted and yet dreaded so much to see. Luckily he was in the house, and in a few moments responded in person to her card.
”Why, Miss Daisy,” he stammered. ”What is the matter? Nothing wrong, I trust. You look quite pale. Is it anything--about--your father?”
The girl was pale indeed. Now that Mr. Weil was so close, the danger that he might not be willing to help her rose like a mountain in her path. She did not know exactly how grave a matter forgery was--whether it was something that the injured party would be able or likely to forgive. If she should tell him everything, and he should refuse to be placated--what could she do then?
There was no one else in the parlor, but seeing that she wanted as much seclusion as possible, Mr. Weil motioned the girl to follow him to a remote corner, where the curtains of a recessed window partially concealed them. He felt that she had come on a momentous errand. His suspicions concerning Mr. Fern were apparently about to be verified, and if so, he did not mean that other ears should hear the tale.
”Mr. Weil,” began Daisy, tremblingly, ”I don't know what to say to you.
I am in great distress. Would you--will you--help me?”
He responded gently that he would do anything in his power. He bade her calm herself, and promised to be the most attentive of listeners.
Rea.s.sured by his kind words and manner, the girl began again; but she could not tell her story connectedly, and after making several attempts to do so, she broke out in a new direction.
”I want so very much of you, dear Mr. Weil. And I am nervous and afraid to ask what I would like. I will give you anything you please in return.
Yes, yes, anything.”
He smiled down upon her face, on which the tears were making stains in spite of her.
”You are promising a great deal, little girl,” he said.
”I know it; I realize it fully,” she responded quickly. ”But I mean all I say. I did not think I could, once, but I am quite resolved now.
Millie told me you were in love with me, and feared I would refuse you.
But I won't. No, no, I will marry you--indeed I will--if you will only save my darling father!”
The concluding words were spoken in the midst of a torrent of sobs that shook the girlish frame and affected powerfully the strong man that witnessed them.
”Daisy, dear child, don't speak like this,” he answered. ”If I can do anything for your father I will most gladly, and the price of your sweet little heart shall not be demanded in payment, either. Leave that matter entirely out of the question, and tell me at once what you desire.”
She heard him with infinite delight, and wiping her eyes she began, in broken tones, to relate the history of Hannibal's revelations. As she proceeded his brow darkened, and when she had finished he muttered something that sounded very much like a curse.
”And what do you wish of me?” he asked, when she had ended.
”To keep him from having my father put in prison; to give us time to escape, if there is no other way; and to forgive the harm to yourself. I know,” she added earnestly, ”it is a great deal to ask, but I have no one else to go to. He has paid every cent, and you will lose nothing.
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