“Nay,” said Reginald; “I doubt you do him injustice. They say he prefers the end of the store which is the furthest from the bar.”
“Perhaps he may,” replied Jessie; “I am always better pleased when he stays away, for he is very ill–tempered and quarrelsome! Well, Miss,” continued she, “are not these pink ribbons beautiful, and these two light shawls,—they come from the British East India House?”
“They are indeed the prettiest and most delicate that I ever saw,” replied Lucy; “and see here, Reginald,” said she, drawing him aside, “these French bead necklaces will do famously for some of your Delaware friends.” She added in a whisper, “Ask her if there is no other news at the town?”
“What about?” inquired her brother. A silent look of reproach was her only reply, as she turned away, and again busied herself with the silks. He was instantly conscious and ashamed of his thoughtlessness, which, after a few moments’ silence, he proceeded to repair, saying, “Pray tell me, Miss Jessie, has your father received no intelligence of The Pride of the Ohio?”
“Alas! not a word,” replied the girl, in a tone of voice so melancholy, that it startled them both.
“But why speak you in so sad a voice about the vessel, Jessie, if you have heard no bad news regarding her?” said Reginald, quickly.
“Because, sir, she has been very long over–due, and there are many reports of French ships of war; and we, that is, my father, is much interested about her.”
Poor Lucy’s colour came and went; but she had not the courage to say a word. After a short pause, Reginald inquired, “Have any boats come up lately from New Orleans?”
“Yes, sir, Henderson’s came up only a few days ago, and Henry Gregson, who had been down on some business for my father, returned in her.”