“No; but it shall be brought forth in due season.”

“Until which time you are a slave; and not only a slave, but my slave,” replied Maxwell, with perfect coolness, as he drew from his pocket-book the forged bill of sale.

“Great God, desert me not in this hour of my afflictions!” groaned Emily.  This last revelation entirely unnerved her, and exposed in a more terrible light her appalling position.  She doubted not the paper she saw in Maxwell’s hands was a bill of sale of her person, and that it would establish his claim; for his present purposes seemed too flagrant to be pursued without good authority.  Her features, dress and language, she felt, would be no safeguards.  She had seen slave-girls as fair and white as herself.  She had heard of those who, with scarcely a drop of negro blood in their veins, were educated to pander to the appetite of depravity.  She had seen them in the streets of New Orleans, in no manner differing in appearance from, the best-born ladies.  Her situation, then, was an awful one.

“Will you read this paper?” continued Maxwell.

“No; like the will, it is a forgery!” replied Emily, determined to die rather than yield herself to the guidance of the attorney.

“It gives me an undeniable right to your person, and you must obey me.  The carriage waits in the road.”

“Mr. Maxwell, if you have a particle of honor left, or if even a shadow of pity rests in your heart, leave me, and finish your despicable persecution!” said Emily, in a pleading tone.

“I have both honor and pity; but I cannot abandon my purpose.  You refused to trust to my honor, refused to receive the offered hand, which would lead you back to the home you have left.  I would fain have averted the calamity you are madly courting; but you would not.  I humbly prayed to be allowed to step between you and your uncle’s avarice; but you would not.  I would willingly have prevented the accomplishment of your uncle’s plans; but—­”

“Then you own that it is a plot?”

“I acknowledge nothing.”

“But you know it is a base trick?”

“It is not for me to say.  The law will be satisfied.  I have offered to do all I could for you, and you have refused.  You appeal to my pity.  Pity! did you pity me when I would have been your willing slave,—­when I pleaded for the hope you have ruthlessly crushed?”

“I did pity you; but I could not help you.  I could not then, and I cannot now, give my hand where my heart is uninterested.  I feared you then, as I despise you now.  Report said your character was not entirely free from stain, and you are now striving to demonstrate the truth of the rumors,” said Emily, whose contempt would not be concealed.

“Report may have belied me,” replied Maxwell, struggling with his violent passions.  “But we are wasting time.  Proceed with me to Vicksburg, and I pledge you my honor you shall not be injured or insulted.”