'Married! to whom?' cried Berrendale, seizing her hand, and almost breathless with alarm.
'Why, to you, sure,' exclaimed Savanna, 'and den me hope you will not turn away poor Savanna?'
'What reason you have, my dear Savanna, for talking thus, I cannot tell; nor dare I give way to the sweet hopes which you excite: but, if it be true that I may hope, depend on it you shall cook my wedding dinner, and then I am sure it will be a good one.'
'Can full joy eat?' asked the mulatto thoughtfully.
'A good dinner is a good thing, Savanna,' replied Berrendale, 'and ought never to be slighted.'
'Me good dinner day I marry, but I not eat it.—O sir, pity people look best in dere wedding clothes, but my William look well all day and every day, and perhaps you will too, sir; and den I ope to cook your wedding dinner, next day dinner, and all your dinners.'
'And so you shall, Savanna,' cried Berrendale, grasping her hand, 'and I—' Here the door opened, and Adeline appeared; who, surprised at Berrendale's familiarity with her servant, looked gravely, and stopped at the door with a look of cold surprise. Berrendale, awed into immediate respect—for what is so timid and respectful as a man truly in love?—bowed low, and lost in an instant all the hopes which had elevated his spirits to such an unusual degree.
Adeline with an air of pique observed, that she feared she interrupted them unpleasantly, as something unusually agreeable and enlivening seemed to occupy them as she came in, over which her entrance seemed to have cast a cloud.
The mulatto had by this time retreated to the door, and was on the point of closing it when Berrendale stammered out, as well as he could, 'Savanna was, indeed, raising my hopes to such an unexpected height, that I felt almost bewildered with joy; but the coldness of your manner, Miss Mowbray, has sobered me again.'
'And what did Savanna say to you?' cried Adeline.