Chapter 23

BANISHMENT

When Abner reached Oaklands next morning, Gilcrest, just returned from a ride to the lower farm, was standing on the stile-block, and a negro boy was leading his horse toward the stables. Gilcrest scowled at the young man as he rode up, and gave him no word of greeting, nor asked him to alight.

Abner began at once: "Major Gilcrest, I have come this morning to have a talk with you."

"Very well; state your business," was the curt rejoinder.

"It is private business and of grave importance. Can we not seek a more retired place than this?"

"Either here, or not at all, sir," answered Gilcrest.

"Major Gilcrest, no man has a right to treat another as you have me without some cause, and I demand the reason for your conduct."

"I'm answerable to no one save myself and my God for my conduct," returned Gilcrest. "Demand, indeed!" he continued with a short laugh. "What right has a popinjay like you to demand?"

"Well, then, I do not demand; I entreat you to assign some reason. I am willing to believe your motives to be good, but that you are laboring under some mistake."

"I have good reason for what I do, Mr. Dudley. Your conscience, if it be not already too much seared and deadened, ought to tell you why. I know more than you think, young man."

"My conscience certainly acquits me of any serious misdemeanor," answered Abner. "So far as I can see, my only offense is in loving your daughter and seeking her hand in marriage; and surely that is not an unpardonable crime. When I came to this community you treated me most cordially, inviting me to your house, and treating me when I did visit you with the utmost kindness, and even affection. In fact, up to the time of my return from Virginia, we were on terms of intimate friendship, notwithstanding the difference in age and position. But since my return all this is changed, and I'm convinced that this change is due to some far graver cause than disapproval of me as a suitor for your daughter. The matter is inexplicable to me; and so guiltless do I feel, that I'm certain you are but laboring under some egregious mistake."

"Young man, I'm laboring under no mistake."

"Then, what are your reasons for this course?" Abner asked again.

"That you have no right to ask. Moreover, it is quite unnecessary; for, in spite of your pretended ignorance, you know quite well to what I refer."

"As God in heaven is my judge, I do not, sir," exclaimed Abner.

"Do not call upon your Maker to witness your false protestations. Do not add blasphemy and perjury to the rest of your iniquities. Marry my daughter! You! I'd see her in her grave first!" By this time he had worked himself into a frenzy; his face was purple and the veins of his forehead were swollen and knotted like cords.

Abner, still apparently cool, though he could with difficulty restrain himself, replied stoutly, "Nothing which I have done or intended can justify your language to me, Major Gilcrest."

"Don't lie to me!" roared Gilcrest, "Don't I know what you have been about, plotting vagabond!" and he shook his cowhide riding-whip in Abner's face, causing the horse to rear and plunge.

The young man quieted his horse, then looked straight into Gilcrest's eyes, his own blazing and his face gray with passion. "Hiram Gilcrest, put down that whip. By God, sir, you shall retract your words!"

"I retract nothing," shouted Gilcrest, still brandishing the whip. "Get out of my sight, before I demean myself by striking you!"

Abner leaned over, and with a sudden movement snatched the whip from Gilcrest's hand, then flung it far over the fence into the adjoining field. Trying to master his anger and speak calmly, he said: "Now listen to me, Major Gilcrest. I love your daughter with an honorable love--stop! stop! You shall hear me through! I love your daughter, and the dearest wish of my life is to make her my wife; yet I should have accepted your decision, painful though it would have been, hoping that in time I could overcome your objections--be quiet! You shall listen to me!--but now, when you will give no reason for objecting to me, and in addition to this injustice heap opprobrious epithets upon me, I tell you emphatically that I shall pay no regard whatsoever to your wishes. Only Betsy herself shall decide. So long as she loves me and considers herself my promised wife, I will see her whenever I can, and will write to her whenever I have opportunity. But when she wishes to be free, I will then, and not till then, return to her her plighted word. As for you, you have forfeited all claim to consideration; you have grossly, wantonly insulted me, and without the shadow of reason."

"Out of my sight, you impudent impostor!" cried Gilcrest, choking with rage and shaking his fist at the young man. "You sneaking bastard, with no right to the name you bear!"

"You are so led away by passion, old man, that you are scarcely responsible for what you say--bastard and impostor, indeed!" he ejaculated, quivering with indignation. "Those epithets are as false as foul, and you know it. You shall not----"

"If they are false, prove them so, you insolent puppy!" shouted Gilcrest.

"Not even your gray hairs should protect you from the chastisement you deserve, were you not Betty's father; but I love her too well to forget consideration for you, on her account."

"Out of my sight! Go! this instant!" cried the old man, beside himself with fury. "If you ever set foot on this place again, my negroes shall drag you through the hog wallow. I would not demean my own hands by touching you."

Abner, feeling that, if he heard any more, he would forget his antagonist's gray head, his age and fatherhood, and strike him, wheeled quickly and rode away, leaving Gilcrest still shouting and gesticulating until horse and rider were out of sight.