He spoke with excitement and gesticulated as if at a political meeting.
Mark Rivers, annoyed, felt a strong inclination to box John's ears. He
took advantage of the pause to say, "Would you like a little more rye,
Mr. Grey?"
"Why, yes, sir. I confess to being a trifle dry. But to resume our discussion—"
"Pardon me. John, ask for the whisky."
To John this was interesting and astonishing. He had never heard talk as wild. The annoyance on Rivers's face was such as to be easily read by the least observant. Elsewhere Mr. Rivers would have had a ready answer, but as Grey sat still a little while enjoying his own eloquence, the fire and the whisky, Rivers's slight negative hint informed John that he was to hold his tongue.
As the clergyman turned to speak to Grey, the latter said, "I wish to add a word more, sir. You will find that the men at the South cling to State rights; if these do not preserve for me and others my property and the right, sir, to take my body-servant to Boston or Kansas, sure that he will be as secure as my—my—shirt-studs, State rights are of no practical use."
"You make it very plain," said Rivers, feeling at last that he must defend his own opinions. "I have myself a few words to say—but, is that all?"
"Not quite—not quite. I am of the belief that the wants of the Southern States should be considered, and the demand for their only possible labour considered. I would re-open the slave-trade. I may shock you, reverend sir, but that is my opinion."
"And, as I observe," said Rivers, "that also of some governors of
States." He disliked being addressed as "reverend," and knew how
Penhallow would smile when captained.
There was a brief silence, what Rivers used to call the punctuation value of the pipe. The Maryland gentleman was honestly clear in the statement of his political creed, and Rivers felt some need to be amiable and watchful of his own words in what he was longing to say. John listened, amazed. He had had his lesson in our history from two competent masters and was now intensely interested as he listened to the ultimate creed of the owner of men.
Grey had at last given up the cigar he had lighted over and over and let go out as often. He set down his empty glass, and said with perfect courtesy, "I may have been excessive in statement. I beg pardon for having spoken of, or rather hinted at, the need for a resort to arms. That is never a pleasant hint among gentlemen. I should like to hear how this awful problem presents itself to you, a clergyman of, sir, I am glad to know, my own church."