Her features, dress and language, she
felt, would be no safeguards. She had seen slave-girls as fair and white
as herself. She had heard of those who, with scarcely a drop of negro
blood in their veins, were educated to pander to the appetite of
depravity. She had seen them in the streets of New Orleans, in no manner
differing in appearance from, the best-born ladies. Her situation,
then, was an awful one.
"Will you read this paper?" continued Maxwell.
"No; like the will, it is a forgery!" replied Emily, determined to die
rather than yield herself to the guidance of the attorney.
"It gives me an undeniable right to your person, and you must obey me.
The carriage waits in the road."
"Mr. Maxwell, if you have a particle of honor left, or if even a shadow
of pity rests in your heart, leave me, and finish your despicable
persecution!" said Emily, in a pleading tone.
"I have both honor and pity; but I cannot abandon my purpose. You
refused to trust to my honor, refused to receive the offered hand, which
would lead you back to the home you have left.
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