He smiles bashfully,
and says, "Glad t' see ye, missus; dat I is: 'spishilly ven ye takes
care on old mas'r." After receiving her salutation he follows her to
the chamber, across which he hastens to receive a welcome from old
mas'r. Marston warmly receives his hand, and motions him to be
seated on the chest near the fire-place. Bob takes his seat, keeping
his eye on mas'r the while. "Neber mind, mas'r," he says, "Big Mas'r
above be better dan Buckra. Da'h is somefin' what Buckra no sell
from ye, dat's a good heart. If old mas'r on'y keeps up he spirit,
de Lor' 'll carry un throu' 'e triblation," he continues; and, after
watching his master a few minutes, returns to Franconia, and resumes
his jargon.
Franconia is the same fair creature Bob watched over when she
visited the plantation: her countenance wears the same air of
freshness and frankness; her words are of the same gentleness; she
seems as solicitous of his comfort as before. And yet a shadow of
sadness shrouds that vivacity which had made her the welcome guest
of the old slaves. He cannot resist those expressions which are ever
ready to lisp forth from the negro when his feelings are excited.
"Lor, missus, how old Bob's heart feels! Hah, ah! yah, yah! Looks so
good, and reminds old Bob how e' look down on dah Astley, yander.
But, dah somefin in dat ar face what make old nigger like I know
missus don't feel just right," he exclaims.
The kind woman reads his thoughts in the glowing simplicity of his
wrinkled face.
Pages:
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513