"You may burn the house, papa," she said, "it is still your own. But
these papers you could only burn by a crime. It would be cheating an
honorable man."
"Honorable! Who?" the Judge exclaimed.
"He who is to be my husband."
"You marry Meshach Milburn!" shouted the Judge, "O curse of God!--not
him?"
"Yes, this night," answered Vesta; "I respect him. I hold these
obligations by his trust in me. They are my engagement ring."
Judge Custis raised a loud howl like a man into whom a nail is driven,
and fell at his daughter's feet and clasped her knees.
"This is to torture me," he cried; "he has not dared to ask you, Vesta?"
"Yes, and my word is passed, father. Shall that word, the word of a
Custis, be less than a Milburn's faith. By the love he bore me, Mr.
Milburn gave me these debts for my dower--a rare faith in one so
prudent. If I do not marry him, they will be given back to him this
night."
"Then give them back, my child, and save your soul and your purity, lest
I live to be cursed with the sight of my noble daughter's shame? This
marriage will be unholy, and the censure to follow it will be the
bankruptcy of more than our estate--of our simple fame and old family
respect. We have friends left who would help us. If you marry Milburn,
they will all despise and repudiate us."
"I do not believe it," said Vesta. "The sense and courage of that
gentleman--he is a gentleman, for I have seen him, and a gentleman of
many gifts--will compel respect even where false pride and family
pretension appear to put him down.
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