Entering the library, I locked the door. When he was seated, I said: 'Now, Larkin, who do you want this girl for?' 'Wall, I swar! Mr. Kirke, ye fire right at th' bull's eye!' Then, hesitating a moment, he added: 'Fur myself.' 'No, you don't; you know that isn't true.' 'Ha!--ha! This ar th' second time ye've told me I lied. Nary other man ever done it twice, Mr. Kirke; but I karn't take no 'fence with ye, nohow--ha! ha!' 'Come, Larkin, don't waste time. Tell me squarely--_who_ do you want this girl for?' 'Wall, Mr. Kirke, I can't answer thet--not in honor.' 'Shall _I_ tell _you_?' 'Yas, ef ye kin!' 'John Hallet.' 'Wall, I'm d----d ef ye doan't take th' papers. Who in creashun told ye thet?' 'No one; I _know_ it, Hallet's only son is engaged to this girl. He wants her, to balk him.' 'Ye're wrong thar. He wants har fur _himself_.' 'For himself!' 'Yas; he's got a couple now. He's a sly old fox; but he's one on 'em.' 'Is he willing to pay eighty-two hundred dollars for a mistress?' 'Wall, Preston owes him a debt, an' he reckons 'tain't wuth a hill o' beans. Thet's th' amount uv it.' Thus the wrong of the father was to be atoned for by the dishonor of the child! Preston was right: the curse which followed his sin had fallen on all he loved--on his wife, his mistress, the octoroon girl, his manly, noble son; and now, the cloud which held the thunderbolt was hovering over the head of his best-loved child! And so He visiteth 'the sins of the fathers upon the children!' 'But he is wrong! Preston's estate will pay its debts. If it does not, Joe will make good the deficiency, I will guarantee Hallet's claim. See him, and tell him so.' 'He hain't yere, an' woan't be yere. He allers fights shy. An' 'twouldn't be uv no use. He's made up his mind to hev th' gal, an' hev har he will. He's come all th' way from Orleans ter make sure uv it.' 'But, Larkin, you've a heart under your waistcoat; _you_ won't lend yourself to the designs of such a consummate scoundrel as Hallet!' 'Scoundrel's a hard word, Mr. Kirke. 'Tain't used much round yere; when it ar, it draws blood like a lancet.' 'I mean no offence to you, Larkin; but it's true--I will prove it;' and I went on to detail my early acquaintance with Hallet; his vast profession and small performance of piety; his betrayal of Frank's mother; his treatment of his son, and all the damning record I have spread before the reader. As I talked, Larkin rose, and walked the room, evidently affected; but, when I concluded, he said: ''Tain't no use, Mr. Kirke; I'd ruther ye wouldn't say no more. It makes me feel like the cholera. An' 'tain't no use! I've _got_ ter buy th' gal.' 'You have _not_ got to buy her! You need only go away. I will give you a thousand dollars, if you will go at once.'