“I restore your fortune, on condition that you give your hand to this gentleman in marriage;”—­and Jaspar again fixed his eyes on the floor, as if he dreaded the outbreak of a storm.

“This gentleman!” exclaimed Emily, indignantly.  “This gentleman!”—­and she gazed upon him with a proud look of contempt, from which the attorney would fain have hid his head.  Her surprise was equal to her indignation.  Vernon had told her that Maxwell was to be the suppliant for her hand, and she could not see why his menial had the presumption to claim her.

“This gentleman!” repeated Emily.  “I had rather die a thousand deaths!”

“Then, madam, we shall be obliged to compel you to this step,” replied De Guy, stung by the scorn of Emily, and distrusting the energy of Jaspar.

“Sir, your impertinence deserves a severer rebuke than I can administer!” said Emily, the blood mounting to her face.

“But it must be even so, madam,” returned the attorney coolly.  “Fate has so decreed.  Your good uncle’s circumstances imperatively demand it.”

“Is this so, uncle?”

“It is, Emily.  You must submit to your fate, unpleasant though it may be,” said Jaspar, looking at her with an absent stare.

“No, uncle, it shall not be so.  I never will submit to such a fate.  What circumstances do you refer to?”

“I am in this man’s power.”

“God be with you, then!  But I understand it all.  He seeks my fortune, not myself.  I would rather he had the whole of it, than become such a thing as to marry that man!”

“Nay, lady, you are of more worth to me than your fortune, large as it is.  I have contracted with your uncle for your hand, and he must pay the price,” said De Guy.

“He speaks truly, Emily.  I have sold you to him,” replied Jaspar, vacantly.

Emily was stung to the quick.  This remark, she supposed, was in allusion to her alleged condition; and the tears rose to her eyes, while the indignant blood mounted to her cheek.

“Uncle, do not brand your soul with infamy!” she said, quickly.

“What!” exclaimed Jaspar, roused to a burst of passion.

“Be not a villain!” returned Emily, whose good-nature was sorely tried.

“Girl, beard not the lion in his den!  I had half relented, but now I feel strong again!” and he rose and tottered to the table, on which his brandy-bottle stood.  After taking a deep draught, he reseated himself.

“You must marry this man!” said he, fiercely striking the table with his fist.

“I never will!” replied Emily, trembling at Jaspar’s violence, but firm in her purpose.

“Remember! girl, remember what you are!” said Jaspar, passionately.

“Enough of this,” said Emily.  “I leave you for—­”

“Stay, lady!  You must not leave the room,” interrupted De Guy, laying his hand upon her arm.

“Remove your hand, villain, nor dare to pollute me with your touch!” exclaimed Emily, shaking off his hand as though it had been contamination.