"
"Do you mean to say, Mr. Brant," said Judge Beeswinger, suppressing the
angry interruption of his fellows with a dominant wave of his hand, as
he fixed his eyes on Clarence keenly, "that you have no sympathy with
your wife's political sentiments?"
"I have already given you the information necessary to make you quit
this house, and that is all you have a right to know," returned Clarence
with folded arms.
"But I can answer for him," said Mrs. Brant, rising, with a quivering
voice and curling lip. "There IS no sympathy between us. We are as far
apart as the poles. We have nothing in common but this house and his
name."
"But you are husband and wife, bound together by a sacred compact."
"A compact!" echoed Mrs. Brant, with a bitter laugh. "Yes, the compact
that binds South Carolina to the nigger-worshipping Massachusetts.
The compact that links together white and black, the gentleman and the
trader, the planter and the poor white--the compact of those UNITED
States. Bah! THAT has been broken, and so can this."
Clarence's face paled. But before he could speak there was a rapid
clattering at the gate and a dismounted vaquero entered excitedly.
Turning to Mrs. Brant he said hurriedly, "Mother of God! the casa is
surrounded by a rabble of mounted men, and there is one among them even
now who demands admittance in the name of the Law.
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