_M'Closky._ They owed him over fifty thousand dollars. _Mrs. P._ I cannot find the entry in my husband's accounts; but you, Mr. M'Closky, can doubtless detect it. Zoe, bring here the judge's old desk; it is in the library. [_Exit_ Zoe _to house_. _M'Closky._ You don't expect to recover any of this old debt, do you? _Mrs. P._ Yes; the firm has recovered itself, and I received a notice two months ago that some settlement might be anticipated. _Sunny._ Why, with principal and interest this debt has been more than doubled in twenty years. _Mrs. P._ But it may be years yet before it will be paid off, if ever. _Sunny._ If there's a chance of it, there's not a planter round here who wouldn't lend you the whole cash, to keep your name and blood amongst us. Come, cheer up, old friend. _Mrs. P._ Ah! Sunnyside, how good you are; so like my poor Peyton. [_Exit_ Mrs. Peyton _and_ Sunnyside _to house._ _M'Closky._ Curse their old families--they cut me--a bilious, conceited, thin lot of dried up aristocracy. I hate 'em. Just because my grandfather wasn't some broken-down Virginia transplant, or a stingy old Creole, I ain't fit to sit down with the same meat with them. It makes my blood so hot I feel my heart hiss. I'll sweep these Peytons from this section of the country. Their presence keeps alive the reproach against me that I ruined them; yet, if this money should come. Bah! There's no chance of it. Then, if they go, they'll take Zoe--she'll follow them. Darn that girl; she makes me quiver when I think of her; she's took me for all I'm worth. _Enter_ Zoe _from house,_ L., _with the desk._ O, here, do you know what annuity the old judge left you is worth to-day? Not a picayune. _Zoe._ It's surely worth the love that dictated it; here are the papers and accounts. [_Putting it on the table,_ R. C.] _M'Closky._ Stop, Zoe; come here! How would you like to rule the house of the richest planter on Atchafalaya--eh? or say the word, and I'll buy this old barrack, and you shall be mistress of Terrebonne. _Zoe._ O, sir, do not speak so to me! _M'Closky._ Why not! look here, these Peytons are bust; cut 'em; I am rich, jine me; I'll set you up grand, and we'll give these first families here our dust, until you'll see their white skins shrivel up with hate and rage; what d'ye say? _Zoe._ Let me pass! O, pray, let me go! _M'Closky._ What, you won't, won't ye? If young George Peyton was to make you the same offer, you'd jump at it, pretty darned quick, I guess. Come, Zoe, don't be a fool; I'd marry you if I could, but you know I can't; so just say what you want. Here then, I'll put back these Peytons in Terrebonne, and they shall know you done it; yes, they'll have you to thank for saving them from ruin. _Zoe._ Do you think they would live here on such terms? _M'Closky,_ Why not? We'll hire out our slaves, and live on their wages. _Zoe._ But I'm not a slave. _M'Closky._ No; if you were I'd buy you, if you cost all I'm worth. _Zoe._ Let me pass!