They, as if doubting their own perceptibilities, draw nearer and
nearer, straining their eyes, while their bodies oscillate against
each other.
Mine host tells them to consider the matter, and be prepared for
action, while he will proceed to M'Fadden's chamber and learn the
state of his health.
He opens the sick man's chamber, and there, to his surprise, is the
invalid gentleman, deliberately taking his tea and toast. Mine host
congratulates him upon his appearance, extends his hand, takes a
seat by his bed-side. "I had fearful apprehensions about you, my
friend," he says.
"So had I about myself. I thought I was going to slip it in right
earnest. My thoughts and feelins-how they wandered!" M'Fadden raises
his hand to his forehead, and slowly shakes his head. "I would'nt a'
given much for the chances, at one time; but the wound isn't so bad,
after all. My nigger property gets along all straight, I suppose?"
he enquires, coolly, rolling his eyes upwards with a look of serious
reflection. "Boy preacher never returned last night. It's all right,
though, I suppose?" again he enquired, looking mine host right in
the eye, as if he discovered some misgiving. His seriousness soon
begins to give place to anxiety.
"That boy was a bad nigger," says mine host, in a half-whisper; "but
you must not let your property worry you, my friend."
"Bad nigger!" interrupts the invalid. Mine host pauses for a moment,
while M'Fadden sets his eyes upon him with a piercing stare.
Pages:
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494