“Do not be alarmed, my dear Mrs. Garnet. Nothing has occurred since the marriage—you perceive that I know all about it. But it is to warn you—to put you upon your guard against something about to occur, that I come to you this evening.” “For God’s sake—what? what?” “Be easy. Nothing that you have not in your full power to avert by a little firmness.” “For Heaven’s sake, explain yourself, Judge Wylie.” “You know something, I presume, of the Maryland laws of property, of inheritance, and of marriage?” “No, no; I know nothing about it.” “At least you know that when a girl marries, all the personal property she may be possessed of at the time of her marriage, or may afterward inherit, becomes the property of her husband?” “Yes, of course, I know that.” “Yes, but—listen. All the landed property she possesses at the time of her marriage, or afterward inherits, is hers—hers alone. Her husband can neither alienate it during his life, or will it at his death. He cannot mortgage it, nor assign it, nor can it be taken for his debts. It is hers, and hers alone. She alone has the disposal of it.” “Yes. Well?” “Therefore, all the personal property you became possessed of at the death of your father is the property of General Aaron Garnet.” “Certainly. Who disputes it? Well?” “But. And now listen! All the landed property, consisting of six thousand acres of the best land on the Western Shore, which you inherited from your father, is yours, your own, and at your death it is your daughter’s, if she survive you, and unless you choose to will it to someone else. General Garnet can make no disposition of it either during your life or at your death.” “It seems to me, Judge Wylie, that this conversation is a very singular one,” said Alice coldly. “Not so singular or so impertinent—that is what you mean—as it appears to be. Bear with me. Hear me out. I speak for your good, and your child’s good, I have before me now the face of your sainted mother. I loved her in my youth, Alice; but that is neither here nor there. Well, this is what I had to say: Your daughter Elsie has, by her marriage, grievously offended her father. He may or may not pardon her. He may discard her. Do not put it in his power to disinherit her.” Alice turned very pale. “Why do you say that to me?” she asked falteringly.