The glass of raw whiskey had somewhat 'elevated' the young planter, and my conscience demurred a little at the advice I gave him; but I recovered my usual self-complacency on reflecting that he would undoubtedly put the money to a much worse use.
Saying, 'D——d if I won't,' Gaston drew forth his purse, and counted out a number of half eagles. Finding he had not enough, he turned to another young planter, and said:
'Here, Bob, I'm short; lend me fifty dollars.'
'Bob' produced his wallet, and, without counting them, handed him a roll of bills.
'Now, stranger, come along, I shall want you to draw up the papers and witness the trade; ha! ha! Is she in the parlor, Squire?'
'Yes,' said Preston, taking the seat I had vacated.
The young man then put his arm into mine, and we proceeded to the 'sitting room.'
Mulock was seated before the fire, gazing intently at the blaze. His wife sat opposite, speaking earnestly to him. She every now and then wetted a short piece of wood with saliva, and dipping it into a snuff bottle, mopped her teeth and gums with the savory powder. She was—as her husband might have said—a perfect 'paragone' of 'poor white' womanhood, with all the accomplishments of her class, smoking, chewing, snuff dipping, and whiskey drinking.
As we approached, she lifted her eyes, and Gaston said to her:
'Are you the lady who has a man for sale—a likely white man?'