"Pretty as a picture"-Romescos has set the child down-"but I
wouldn't give seven coppers for both; for, by my faith, such
property never does well." The gentleman shakes his head in return.
"It's a pity they're made it out nigger, though,--it's so handsome.
Sweet little creature, that child, I declare: her beauty would be
worth a fortune on the stage, when she grows up."
Romescos touches Mr. Seabrook on the arm; remarks that such things
are only good for certain purposes; although one can make them pay
if they know how to trade in them. But it wants a man with a capable
conscience to do the business up profitably. "No chance o' your
biddin' on 'um, is there, colonel?" he enquires, with a significant
leer, folding his arms with the indifference of a field-marshal.
After a few minutes' pause, during which Mr. Seabrook seems
manufacturing an answer, he shrugs his shoulders, and takes a few
pleasing steps, as if moved to a waltzing humour. "Don't scare up
the like o' that gal-nigger every day," he adds. Again, as if moved
by some sudden idea, he approaches Annette, and placing his hand on
her head, continues: "If this ain't tumbling down a man's affairs by
the run! Why, colonel, 'taint more nor three years since old Hugh
Marston war looked on as the tallest planter on the Ashley; and he
thought just as much o' these young 'uns as if their mother had
belonged to one of the first families. Now-I pity the poor
fellow!-because he tried to save 'em from being sold as slaves,
they-his creditors-think he has got more property stowed away
somewhere.
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