"Oh, no!" I said. "At least, if he is, so am I. It isn't that.
But I shall never be an heiress, Miss Cardigan. I shall be
very poor, I rather think."

I smiled at her as I said these words - they were upon the
first pleasant subject that had been touched for some time
between us; and Miss Cardigan looked quite bewildered. I
remembered she had good reason; and I thought it was right,
though very much against my will, to explain my words.

"You know what makes my father and mother rich?" I said.

"My dear!" said Miss Cardigan - "They have large Southern
properties."

"And you know what makes Southern wealth?" I went on.

"Rice - cotton -"

"No, it isn't that," I said.

"What then, my dear? I do not know what you mean. I thought it
was mainly cotton."

"It is unpaid labour," I said. "It is hands that ought to work
for themselves; and men and women that ought to belong to
themselves."

"Slaves," said Miss Cardigan. "But, Daisy, what do you mean?
It's all true; but what can you do?"