“It is not true! I don’t believe a word of such stuff,” ejaculated Miss Arabella, dogmatically.
“Authorities admit, it is true, that there may be exceptions to the invariability of this law, but claim that such instances are faults in nature and likely, as all faults in nature, to produce the most astounding results. These authorities assert that the progeny of an octoroon and one of the white race being the outcome of a fault in nature, are certain to be deficient in strength and vigor, are apt to be deformed, and even may possibly breed back to a remote coal-black ancestor,” said Chapman, speaking slowly, punctuating each sentence with a gasping sound, almost a groan.
“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed his sister rising in indignation from her chair and moving toward the door, saying,
“I positively will hear no more of your absurd science. It’s all foolishness. If that be the idiocy that you learn from ethnology I think that you had better occupy your time otherwise. Thanks to your ‘authorities’ and their crazy notions, I suppose that I shall dream all night of monkeys and monsters, but even that is better than sitting her and listening to my brother, whom I supposed had some brains, talk like a fit subject for the lunatic asylum.” With the closing sentence, as a parting shot at her brother the incensed spinster sailed out of the door and with a whisk went up stairs to her virgin chamber.
X.
“Lucy Burton is a perfect dream tonight, is she not?” exclaimed enthusiastically Alice Stanhope, gazing admiringly at the fair companion of her school days who had just entered the room leaning on the arm of her husband.
“Almost as pretty as you are,” gallantly replied ‘Bertie’ Winthrop, to whom the remark of the young woman was addressed.
“Well, don’t expect me to vie with you in flattery and reply by saying that Mr. Burton is almost as handsome as you are, for I am like the father of our country, ‘I can’t tell a lie.’”