"Julia--nay!--did you not?"
"And if I did, Edward--"
"It surely was not to believe it?"
"No! no! no! I had no fears of you--have none, dear Edward! I knew
that it was not, could not be true."
"Julia, it was true!"
"Ah!"
"True, indeed! There was more truth in THAT than in any other part
of the story. Nay, more--had they told you all the truth, dearest
Julia, that part, strange as it may appear, would have given you
less pain than pleasure."
"How! Can it be so?"
"Your hand was proffered me by your father, and I refused it.
Nay, look not from me, dearest--fear not for my affection--fear
nothing. I should have no fear that you could suppose me false to
you, though the whole world should come and tell you so. True love
is always secured by a just confidence in the beloved object; and,
without this confidence, the whole life is a series of long doubts,
struggles, griefs, and apprehensions, which break down the strength,
and lay the spirit in the dust. I will now tell you, in few words,
what is the relation in which I stand to your father and his family.
He, many years ago, committed an error in business, which the laws
distinguish by a harsher name. By this error he became rich. Until
recently, the proofs of this error were unknown. They have lately
been discovered by certain claimants, who are demanding reparation.
In the difficulty of your father, he came to me. I examined the
business, and have given it as my opinion that he should stifle
the legal process by endeavoring to make a private arrangement with
the creditors."
"Could he do this?"
"He could. The creditors were willing, and at first he consented
that I should arrange it with them. He now rejects the arrangement."
"But why?"
"Because it involves the surrender of the entire amount of property
which they claim--a sum of forty thousand dollars."
"But, dear Edward, is it due?--does my father owe this money? If
he does, surely he can not refuse. Perhaps he thinks that he owes
nothing."
"Nay, Julia, unhappily he knows it, and the offer of your hand, and
half of the sum mentioned, was made to me, on the express condition
that I should exert my influence as a man, and my ingenuity as a
lawyer, in baffling the creditors and stifling the claim."
The poor girl was silent and hung her head, her eyes fixed upon
the carpet, and the big tears slowly gathering, dropping from them,
one, by one. Meanwhile, I explained, as tenderly as I could, the
evil consequences which threatened Mr. Clifford in consequence of
his contumacy.
"Alas" she exclaimed, "it is not his fault. He would be willing--I
heard him say as much last night--but mother--she will not consent.
She refused positively the moment father said it would be necessary
to sell out, and move to a cheaper house. Oh, Edward, is there no
way that you can save us? Save my father from shame, though he
gives up all the money."