The question could not have been heard; for the peddler, burying his body in the pack, brought forth a quantity of lace of exquisite fineness, and, holding it up to view, he required the admiration of the young lady. Miss Peyton dropped the cup she was engaged in washing, from her hand; and Frances exhibited the whole of that lovely face, which had hitherto only suffered one of its joyous eyes to be seen, beaming with a color that shamed the damask which enviously concealed her figure.
The aunt quitted her employment; and Birch soon disposed of a large portion of his valuable article. The praises of the ladies had drawn the whole person of the younger sister into view; and Frances was slowly rising from the window, as Sarah repeated her question, with an exultation in her voice, that proceeded more from pleasure in her purchase, than her political feelings. The younger sister resumed her seat, apparently examining the state of the clouds, while the peddler, finding a reply was expected, answered,—
“There is some talk, below, about Tarleton having defeated General
Sumter, on the Tiger River.”
Captain Wharton now involuntarily thrust his head between the opening of the curtains into the room; and Frances, turning her ear in breathless silence, noticed the quiet eyes of Harper looking at the peddler, over the book he was affecting to read, with an expression that denoted him to be a listener of no ordinary interest.
“Indeed!” cried the exulting Sarah; “Sumter—Sumter—who is he? I’ll not buy even a pin, until you tell me all the news,” she continued, laughing and throwing down a muslin she had been examining.
For a moment the peddler hesitated; his eye glanced towards Harper, who was yet gazing at him with settled meaning, and the whole manner of Birch was altered. Approaching the fire, he took from his mouth a large allowance of the Virginian weed, and depositing it, with the superabundance of its juices, without mercy to Miss Peyton’s shining andirons, he returned to his goods.
“He lives somewhere among the niggers to the south,” answered the peddler, abruptly.
“No more nigger than be yourself, Mister Birch,” interrupted Caesar tartly, dropping at the same time the covering of the goods in high displeasure.
“Hush, Caesar—hush; never mind it now,” said Sarah Wharton soothingly, impatient to hear further.
“A black man so good as white, Miss Sally,” continued the offended negro, “so long as he behave heself.”