A suspicion had more than once
entered her mind that Maxwell was, in some manner, connected with the
foul plot which had drawn her into its toils. But, she reasoned, if he
loved her, he would not injure her,--no, not even in revenge for her
refusal. _She_ could not, and her beautiful nature would not allow her
to believe it, even of a man as gross as her better judgment told her
Maxwell was.
To her inquiry for her uncle, Maxwell informed her that he had some
conversation with him since he came on board at Baton Rouge, and that he
had requested him to attend her at tea. He had not seen him since, but
supposed he was forward, or in his state-room.
Emily readily accepted his arm, for anything was a relief from the
hateful presence of Jaspar. Maxwell used all the art which politeness
could lend to render himself agreeable. His ready wit, and the
adaptation of his conversation to the unhappy circumstances of her
position, in some measure dispelled the misery of the hour. Besides, it
was plain the attorney did not believe the statement of the will; for a
high-born Southern gentleman would never associate in public with a
slave girl.
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