She
is preparing an elegant breakfast, which "her friends" must partake
of before starting. Everything must be in her nicest: she runs from
the ante-room to the hall, and from thence to the yard, gathering
plates and dishes; she hurries Old Peggy the cook, and again scolds
the waiters.
Daddy Bob and Harry have come into the yard to ask Marston's
permission to join the party as boatmen. They are in Aunt Rachel's
way, and she rushes past them, pushing them aside, and calling Mas'r
to come and attend to their wants. Marston comes forward, greets
them with a familiar shake of the hand, granting their request
without further ceremony. Breakfast is ready; but, anxious for the
amusement of the day, their appetites are despoiled. Franconia, more
lovely than ever, presenting that ease, elegance, and reserve of the
southern lady, makes her appearance in the hall, is escorted to the
table leaning on the arm of Maxwell. Delicacy, sensitiveness,
womanly character full of genial goodness, are traits with which the
true southern lady is blessed:--would she were blessed with another,
an energy to work for the good of the enslaved! Could she add that
to the poetry of her nature, how much greater would be her charm-how
much more fascinating that quiet current of thought with which she
seems blessed! There is a gentleness in her impulses--a pensiveness
in her smile--a softness in her emotions--a grace in her movements--an
ardent soul in her love! She is gay and lightsome in her youth; she
values her beauty, is capricious with her admirers, and yet becomes
the most affectionate mother; she can level her frowns, play with
the feelings, make her mercurial sympathy touching, knows the power
of her smiles: but once her feelings are enlisted, she is sincere
and ardent in her responses.
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