He said it with a kind of mechanical sadness, fumbling slowly as he spoke with the handle of the knife under his waistcoat, his eyes roving absently, meanwhile, over the gaping faces of the motley crowd.
“Mr. Brown,” said Muriel, “here are fifty dollars, which I want you to divide at your discretion among those that need means to get away. It is from a lady who is sitting down there in my carriage. She wanted it given for this purpose. If you need any more, come to my house at any time. And if I can do anything, please to let me know, for I want to help if I can.”
He took the money quietly, put his large black hand over his mouth, and bowed low. Then throwing back his head and shoulders, and extending his brawny arm with the bills in the hand, he suddenly fronted the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with a grandiose manner, pouring his tremendous bass into the concourse, “a lady in the carriage gives fifty dollars to help the brethren that are leaving us for Canada. The lady here has often helped us, and will help again. In my humble opinion, they’re both of ’em God’s ladies, and”—
The great voice broke. Muriel, astonished by this unexpected outburst, was yet so overcome by the electric passion of the negro’s speech and manner, that she lost her self-possession, and knew not how to interpose.
“Three cheers,” screeched Tugmutton, at this juncture, thinking that some cheering would be highly appropriate.
Three? They cheered till they reeled! Roar on roar went up in solid volume, till the sky seemed to swoon above them. Muriel, disconcerted for once in her life, turned to Brown, who stood grimly smiling, and begged him to quiet them and get them to disperse. He put out his hand, and at once the tumult immediately around them dropped, though broken shouting still went on in the rear. Turning to the fat squab who had given the word for this ovation, and played fugleman with cap and voice to it all, Muriel silently beckoned him to follow, and hurriedly bowing and smiling to the calm negro, went on.