The Headless Horseman Part 114

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?"

"You know that your cousin Cash loves you. He is ready to die for--more and better still, to marry you."

"But I am not ready to marry _him_. No, father; _I_ shall die first.

The presumptuous wretch! I know what it means. And he has sent _you_ to make this proposal! Tell him in return, that, sooner than consent to become his wife, I'd go upon the prairies--and seek my living by la.s.soing wild horses! Tell him that!"

"Reflect, daughter! You are, perhaps, not aware that--"

"That my cousin is your creditor. I know all that, dear father. But I know also that you are Woodley Poindexter, and I your daughter."

Delicately as the hint was given, it produced the desired effect. The spirit of the planter surged up to its ancient pride, His reply was:--

"Dearest Louise! image of your mother! I had doubted you. Forgive me, my n.o.ble girl! Let the past be forgotten. I shall leave it to yourself. You are free to refuse him!"

CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE.

A KIND COUSIN.

Louise Poindexter made fall use of the liberty allowed by her father.

In less than an hour after, Calhoun was flatly refused.

It was his third time of asking. Twice before had the same suit been preferred; informally, and rather by a figure of speech than in the shape of a direct declaration.

It was the third time; and the answer told it would be the last. It was a simple "No," emphatically followed by the equally simple "Never!"

There was no prevarication about the speech--no apology for having made it.

Calhoun listened to his rejection, without much show of surprise.

Possibly--in all probability--he expected it.

But instead of the blank look of despair usually observable under the circ.u.mstances, his features remained firm, and his cheeks free from blanching.

As he stood confronting his fair cousin, a spectator might have been reminded of the jaguar, as it pauses before springing on its prey.

There was that in his eye which seemed to say:--

"In less than sixty seconds, you'll change your tune."

What he did say was:--

"You're not in earnest, Loo?"

"I am, sir. Have I spoken like one who jests?"

"You've spoken like one, who hasn't taken pains to reflect."

"Upon what?"