"Do you mean to imply, sir," began Colonel Starbottle haughtily,
"that"--

"I mean to imply, sir," said Clarence with quiet scorn, "that I have
neither the wish to know nor the slightest concern in any purpose that
brought you here, and that when you quit the house you take your secrets
and your privacy with you intact, without let or hindrance from me."

"Do you mean to say, Mr. Brant," said Judge Beeswinger, suppressing the
angry interruption of his fellows with a dominant wave of his hand, as
he fixed his eyes on Clarence keenly, "that you have no sympathy with
your wife's political sentiments?"

"I have already given you the information necessary to make you quit
this house, and that is all you have a right to know," returned Clarence
with folded arms.

"But I can answer for him," said Mrs. Brant, rising, with a quivering
voice and curling lip. "There IS no sympathy between us. We are as far
apart as the poles. We have nothing in common but this house and his
name."

"But you are husband and wife, bound together by a sacred compact."

"A compact!" echoed Mrs. Brant, with a bitter laugh. "Yes, the compact
that binds South Carolina to the nigger-worshipping Massachusetts.
The compact that links together white and black, the gentleman and the
trader, the planter and the poor white--the compact of those UNITED
States. Bah! THAT has been broken, and so can this."