"It's a picture one don't often see," said the wagoner, with a thoughtful air; "but if I had my choice of the two girls for a daughter, I reckon I'd choose the dark-skinned one."
It did not displease Seth to hear this, for Sally and the Duchess really occupied an equal place in his heart. If the beauty of the Duchess awoke the tenderness of his nature, the devotion, unselfishness, and many rare qualities displayed by Sally were no less powerful in their effect upon his sympathies. Bearing in mind the scene that had occurred at Springfield on the preceding evening, he asked the wagoner, if any inquiries were made of him, not to divulge where he and the children were rusticating.
"I've brought them into the country," he said, "as much for peace and quietness as for fresh air."
There was to the wagoner's mind something suspicious both in the words and the nervous manner in which Seth made the request. He showed in his countenance the impression he received, and Seth, wishing to stand well with him, gave an account of the incident which had so disturbed him.
"When I heard the lady say she would like to buy my child," he said, in conclusion, "it seemed to me that she had so much faith in the power of money, and so little in the power of love, that I could not keep my temper. I spoke hotly, and with reason, I think."
"It would have roused my blood," responded the wagoner; "you never saw any of the gentlefolk before?"
"Never, and I never wish to see them again. I said as much to the master of Springfield, if I'm not mistaken."
"From what I've heard of him, he's not a man either to forget or forgive."
"You'll promise me, then, for the sake of the children, not to set any one on our track?"
He spoke anxiously, his fears exaggerating a danger which, in all likelihood was wholly imaginary.