Eveline Mandeville | Page 2

not hear all that was said; but I
learned enough to satisfy myself that all was not right. I had not
mentioned the circumstance before, for the simple reason that I wished
to obtain stronger evidence against the parties, but you have my
secret--act upon it as you think best."
This conversation will sufficiently explain itself. A father desires his
daughter to marry against her will, because a wealthy suitor proposes
for her hand, but she cannot accede to his wishes, because, we presume,
she has a romantic notion that love ought to have something to do, in
making matrimonial connections.
The father was somewhat taken aback by the revelations of the
daughter at the close of their interview, and left her to ponder on the
subject, and, if possible, to ascertain the truth as to the guilt or

innocence of the parties suspected.
Duffel, from some source, obtained an inkling of how matters stood,
and seeing the father, had a long interview with him in private. What
was the purport of his part of the conference, and the object he had in
view, may be gathered from the following passage between father and
daughter.
"So, ho, my girl, you thought to deceive me concerning young Duffel,
did you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You would have me believe him a horse-thief and a bird for the
penitentiary?" he went on, without seeming to notice her interposition.
"Well, your well-devised scheme has failed of its object, and I have at
once revealed to me its purpose and end, and its originator."
"I do not understand you, sir!"
"Oh, no! very ignorant all of a sudden! You forgot one of the most
material portions of your revelation to me the other day, and that was
the name of your confederate in concocting that story of the guilty
associations of Willard Duffel."
"I had no associate, and I have never mentioned the circumstance to a
living soul except yourself. Now, please be equally frank, and tell who
your confederate is in this plot to make your daughter out a hypocrite
and a liar?"
The father was startled by this bold demand, which, indeed, opened his
eyes to the enormity of his child's wickedness, if his charges against her
were true; but he had set his face to one point, and not being easily
turned aside from a purpose, proceeded:
"I am not to be deceived by a show of indignation and virtue, when it is
assumed for effect. You need not put yourself to the trouble of a denial
or confession; I know who is associated with you to traduce Duffel; it

is no other than the one who stands between you and the man of my
choice--a poor beggarly fellow, to whom you have taken a fancy
because of his worthlessness, I suppose. You understand who I mean.
Well, he shall stand between me and my wishes--or rather between you
and good fortune--no longer."
Indignation, surprise, wonder, fear, resentment, and a hundred other
emotions filled the mind of the daughter during the delivery of this
address; but amid them all, there was a purpose as fixed as that of her
sire's to have a voice in the matter of her own disposal. But before
anything further transpired, the father cast his eyes out of the open
window, and seeing a gentleman approaching, said:
"There comes that beggarly dog now! I must go and meet him."
And without further ceremony or explanation, he immediately left the
house.
It would be a difficult task to portray the feelings of the daughter at this
moment. She saw that her father was incensed, but the sorrow that this
circumstance would otherwise have engendered in her bosom, was lost
in the feeling that an outrage had been perpetrated upon her rights and
sensibilities, and she felt the blood of indignation coursing through her
veins, and mounting her temples and brow. How could she help these
emotions, when she knew that injustice had been done--that she had
been insulted by an implication of falsehood, when she was conscious
of a free, full and honorable rectitude of purpose, and that, too, by her
own father! These thoughts rushed through her mind with lightning
speed, and the tears forced themselves to her eyes--tears half of sorrow,
half of anger.
But now a new source of anxiety, mixed with alarming apprehensions,
took possession of her distracted mind. Her father had left the house
abruptly, and looking in the direction he had taken, she beheld him in
violent conversation with Charles Hadley, the only man for whom she
had ever entertained sentiments of tender regard, the only one to whose
"tale of love" she had listened with quickened pulses and beating heart,
the only one to whom she had plighted her faith, with whom