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If David Cabarreux were the heir he would have every virtue in her father's eyes. "I hope," she said at last, taking up her work again with a soft, complacent little laugh, "Mr. Cabarreux may live long to enjoy his good fortune." "The fortune is not his," cried Sam excitedly. "You don't understand. Boyer is the heir the Honorable Peter M. Boyer.
"It would go dead ag'in' your chances down at Calhoun's, major, if Dave gets that proputty," he said gravely. "Old Tony Calhoun is a full-blood Yankee. He'll never give his daughter to a man with lean pockets." The major pulled himself up, half sobered as if by a dash of cold water. "And what has Cabarreux to make him fit for her?" he demanded shrilly. "Neither money nor brains.
A man may know how common are the iron and steel and coal that go to make up a steam-engine, but none the less does the mysterious force inside make him stand out of the way. The squire and Mr. Calhoun sauntered down the street. "I'll not deny," said the old man, meditatively, "that Cabarreux has no Northern 'go' in him. But Dave's a good-natured fellow.
The Cabarreux property is turning out better than any other in that part of the State, both as to soil and mineral products: there is some talk of a gold-mine, indeed, lately. "And Bel," her father tells the squire, "will find out the latest improvements in working it. Bel can bring the best profit out of any ground, however poor. Even out of Cabarreux himself." Mr.
Sam looked up at the handsome, eager face for a full moment. "Boyer is dead," he said. "The proputty's yours, Cabarreux," cried the squire. "By George, he's off already! Straight for the Calhoun farm! Thar will be as fine a couple as there is in Carolina. Come, let's drink their health, major. I'll stand treat." "Drink their health? No. Good-night.
I was just saying to Fetridge hyar, 'What is there that fellow hasn't got?" "What's the matter? what have I got?" said Cabarreux. "The major here hes heerd about that fellow Boyer. He's dead." "Is this true?" turning to Fetridge. The major did not answer. "Of course it's true," said the squire. "Sam has the letter in his pocket. Show it to him, Fetridge."
I shall think of you as very comfortable here, Mr. Cabarreux, when I am in the North." "When you are in the North? Great God! do you know what you are sayin'? Stay! you shall hear me! It's a poor hovel I know how wretched it looks in your Northern eyes but as I lay there this morning I was plannin' plannin' how to make a palace of it for you for you. Why, I'd work like a slave " He stopped short.
Cabarreux with a steady income would be a dead weight which Bel might manage to shove along through the world; but Cabarreux with nothing is a millstone which would grind her to powder. I'd made up my mind to send her away next week. But if you think " "Stay in town until we hear. The will's to be read to-night. Come and dine with me: the madam has corned beef and succotash to-day."
But what's the difference?" he continued after waiting a moment to allow the sensation produced by his words to subside. "This man Boyer, they tell me, has not been heard of for years. He didn't even turn up in the war. Undoubtedly, he's dead." Major Fetridge sank back against the pump with a drunken chuckle: "Dave Cabarreux thinks that he's dead, hey?
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