The dark cloud, long lowering over Colonel Armstrong and his fortunes,
is about to fall. A dialogue with his eldest daughter occurring on the
same day--indeed in the same hour--when she refused Richard Darke, shows
him to have been but too well aware of the prospect of impending ruin.
The disappointed suitor had not long left the presence of the lady, who
so laconically denied him, when another appears by her side. A man,
too; but no rival of Richard Darke--no lover of Helen Armstrong. The
venerable white-haired gentleman, who has taken Darke's place, is her
father, the old colonel himself. His air, on entering the room, betrays
uneasiness about the errand of the planter's son--a suspicion there is
something amiss. He is soon made certain of it, by his daughter
unreservedly communicating the object of the interview. He says in
rejoinder:--
"I supposed that to be his purpose; though, from his coming at this
early hour, I feared something worse."
These words bring a shadow over the countenance of her to whom they are
addressed, simultaneous with a glance of inquiry from her grand,
glistening eyes.