“The news of Fairfax’s horrible death shocked her into a sort of appalled ecstacy, which lasted for twelve hours! And from which she was only roused to break into such tears and sobs, as I never heard before, and hope never to hear again.” The old man wished to prepare Major Cabell, gradually, for the announcement he intended to make of the marriage about to be broken off. He wished to touch his heart, to excite his sympathy, to awaken his generosity. He even hoped—for people will have wild hopes in extremity—that Major Cabell might anticipate his wish, and resign his claims. He never was more mistaken in his life! Major Cabell listened in grave silence to his speech, and then in high displeasure, exclaimed— “By my soul, sir! this is a very astonishing and most offensive thing, you tell me! Why should Zuleime grieve thus immoderately over the death of this young officer. Will you explain that?” “Yes! I _might_ say—because he was her intimate companion in her own home all the summer—and was soon after leaving it, so barbarously slaughtered. That is quite a sufficient reason for the tender-hearted child to grieve excessively. But I will not deceive you, Major Cabell. She loved this poor young man!” “Sir! Mr. Clifton! By Heaven, sir!” “It cannot be helped, Charley! Hearts cannot be bound by parchment and red tape! She loved this poor Frank Fairfax—and her heart is broken by his sudden, dreadful loss. Her grief, poor thing, must have its way! She shall not be troubled!” “And pray, sir,” began Major Cabell, speaking with deliberate scorn—“how long shall this faithless girl be permitted to weep over the memory of that fellow, before she is required to give her hand to one who might have claimed it as his right long ago?” “_Charles Cabell_,” said the old man, speaking slowly and sadly, “is it _possible_ that you _can_—that _any_ man could wish to marry a broken-hearted girl, mourning over the grave of her freshly murdered lover!” “_Wish_ to marry her? Wish to marry Zuleime? Give her to me! Give me Zuleime! Only give her to me, and then see! She is my right! I claim her by your promise—and I would take her _now_!” “But you are certainly mad! You would be miserable with her!” “_Should I?_ That is my affair! Only give her to me! Come! let me have her to-day, or to-morrow, and I will take her home to Richmond with me,” said Major Cabell vehemently, almost fiercely. Old Mr. Clifton looked up at him in surprise, amounting almost to fear. Have I ever described Major Cabell to you? He was a small man, with clear cut, sharpened features, and pale face, surrounded by light brown hair and whiskers, with very handsome dark brown eyes, but with a certain latent ferocity in the eyes, and grimness about the thin, set lips. Somehow or other he irresistibly reminded you of a hyena—especially when he happened to laugh that thin, ungenial laugh. The old man looked at him in surprise, almost amounting to fear, and then he said—