"Ah! yes; my old dad's dead and gone; buried him day before yesterday. Can't be helped, you know. It's the way of us all. We've all got to die." To this lugubrious declaration Lena Rook yielded ready assent. There was a pause in the conversation. Notwithstanding his plentitude of power, tending to inspire him with sufficient assurance, the suitor felt ill at ease. It was not to be wondered at, considering the errand on which he had come. Moreover, the pleasant look had forsaken Lena's face, and he had begun to doubt of success. She knew what he had come for, and was seriously reflecting upon the answer she should give him. She, of course, intended it to be negative; but she remembered her father's words, and was thinking in what way she might reject the disagreeable suitor, without stirring up his spite. She so well understood his nature as to know he would be contemptible enough to use it. It was no thought of herself that dictated the affability with which she was entertaining him; though she could scarce conceal her disgust for the man before her, talking in such strains of a father so recently deceased. She, too, had a father, who was not what he ought to be; and she knew it. But still he was her father. After remaining for some time silent--not knowing what to say--Brandon at length summoned sufficient courage to stammer out his proposal. It was done with some fear and trembling. He was more himself after he had received the refusal, which he did, in as delicate terms as the young lady could command. But, delicacy was thrown away upon the spiteful planter, who, stung by the thought of being refused by the daughter of a poor white--he knew the secret of Jerry Rook's altered circumstances--began upbraiding in terms of opprobrious wrath the woman from whose feet he had just arisen! The young girl, thus grossly outraged, would have called to her father for protection, but again remembering his words, she remained silent under the infliction, not even making answer to her cowardly insulter. "Somebody else, I suppose," said the rejected gentleman, spitefully pronouncing the words. "Some poor `trash' of your own sort has got a hold of you! By--!" the ruffian swore a frightful oath, "if it be so, when I find out who it is, and I don't care who it is, I'll make these settlements too hot to hold him! _Lena Rook, you'll rue this refusal_!" Not a word said Lena Rook in reply to this coarse invective. A disdainful curl upon her lip was all the answer she vouchsafed; which stayed there as she stood watching him along the walk, and until he had remounted his horse, and galloped off from the gate. Her's were not the only eyes bent upon the disappointed suitor. Jerry Rook, engaged among the pigs and poultry, saw him ride away; and from the spiteful spurring of his horse, and the reckless air with which he rode, the old hunter conjectured the sort of answer that had been given him.