"Ah! he never thinks of that. His negroes get better treatment than his clerks, by far; and there isn't a soul among them but what loves him dearly, and would die for him, I don't doubt, at any moment. So you see he can be kind, strange as it may seem."
"It is strange, Wilkins. Mr. Delancey is a man I cannot understand or appreciate. I don't think I like him at all."
"He certainly has done nothing to make you, my poor boy. His pride, for it is pride, renders him very disagreeable. If all the sin, which his harshness and indifference has caused in others, were laid up against him, 'twould make a mighty pile. There's a day of retribution coming for him, though."
As Wilkins spoke he bent forward, and rested his head on his hand, with a peculiar smile upon his lips.
"A day of retribution! What do you mean, Wilkins? Is there any trouble brooding for him?"
"All pride must have a fall," muttered Wilkins, as if to himself, while he gave the coals a vehement thrust. "Don't ask me anything more about it, Guly."
"But you have roused my curiosity," said Guly, looking up in surprise. "If it isn't a secret, I would like to know more of what you mean."
"I mean a great deal, and would tell you sooner than any one else; but it would do you no good if I would tell you, which I can't, and so we'll say no more about it."
"Has Mr. Delancey any children?"