“I will do so.” Then added as in soliloquy, “Indeed, indeed, I was to blame in standing passive under such influences as that one-legged man’s. My conscience upbraids me.—The poor negro: You see him occasionally, perhaps?”
“No, not often; though in a few days, as it happens, my engagements will call me to the neighborhood of his present retreat; and, no doubt, honest Guinea, who is a grateful soul, will come to see me there.”
“Then you have been his benefactor?”
“His benefactor? I did not say that. I have known him.”
“Take this mite. Hand it to Guinea when you see him; say it comes from one who has full belief in his honesty, and is sincerely sorry for having indulged, however transiently, in a contrary thought.”
“I accept the trust. And, by-the-way, since you are of this truly charitable nature, you will not turn away an appeal in behalf of the Seminole Widow and Orphan Asylum?”
“I have not heard of that charity.”
“But recently founded.”
After a pause, the clergyman was irresolutely putting his hand in his pocket, when, caught by something in his companion’s expression, he eyed him inquisitively, almost uneasily.
“Ah, well,” smiled the other wanly, “if that subtle bane, we were speaking of but just now, is so soon beginning to work, in vain my appeal to you. Good-by.”