houn, in surprise.

"I mean that leaving as you did subjected my daughter to much unjust
criticism. An honorable man would have gone to prison rather than
subjected the young lady to whom he owed his life to idle remarks."

Calhoun felt every nerve in him tingle. His hot blood rushed through his
veins like fire, he clenched his hands until his nails buried themselves
in the palms. How he longed to throttle him and force the insult down his
throat! But he was an old man; he was Joyce's father. Then, as Joyce had
never told him it was she who had planned the escape, it was not for him
to speak. Controlling himself by a mighty effort, he calmly said: "Mr.
Crawford, I am sorry you think so poorly of me, for I came here to ask of
you the greatest boon you have to give on earth, that is your consent that
I may pay my addresses to your daughter, and in due time make her my wife.
I love her with my whole soul, and have reason to know that my love is
returned."

"And I had rather see my daughter dead than married to a Rebel and
traitor, especially to one of Morgan's men. You have my answer," said Mr.
Crawford, angrily.

"Why call me Rebel and traitor?" asked Calhoun. "Whatever I may have been,
I am not that now. The government has pardoned; can you not be as generous
as the government? as generous as your great generals, Grant and Sherman?"

"And the government will find out its mistake. Your punishment has not
been what your sins deserve. Your lands should be taken from you and given
to the poor beings you have enslaved these centuries. But we need not
quarrel. You have had my answer concerning my daughter. Now go, and never
let me see you again."

"Mr. Crawford," said Calhoun, rising, "you have been very outspoken with
me, and I will be equally so with you. As to the terms you say should have
been given the South, I will say that had such been even hinted at, every
man, woman, and child in the South would have died on their hearthstones
before yielding. But this is idle talk, as I trust there are but few in
the North so remorseless as you. Now, as to your daughter; if she is
willing, I shall marry her in spite of you. There is one raider of Morgan
still in the saddle, and he will not cease his raid until he has carried
away the fairest flower in Ohio."

"Go," cried Mr. Crawford, losing his temper, "go before I am forced to use
harsher means."

Before Calhoun could reply, before he could take a step, there was a swish