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I'll be sure to tell the cunnle how careful yo' were not to give up his correspondence to everybody. It'll please him mo' than to hear yo' are wearing his ring which everybody knows before people." "He gave it to me he he knew I wouldn't take money," said Mrs. Bunker indignantly.
Yo' ought to have made him talk he generally don't want much prompting to talk to women, if they're pooty." "He didn't seem in a hurry to go," said Mrs. Bunker indignantly. The next moment she saw her error, even before the cruel, handsome smile of her unbidden guest revealed it. "I thought so," she said lazily; "this IS the place and here's where the cunnle stayed.
"And so this is where Cunnle Marion stopped when he waited fo' the boat to take him off," said the stranger, glancing lazily around, and delaying with smiling insolence the explanation she knew Mrs. Bunker was expecting. "The cunnle said it was a pooh enough place, but I don't see it. I reckon, however, he was too worried to judge and glad enough to get off.
Only yo' oughtn't have given him and yo'self away to the first stranger quite so easy. The cunnle might have taught yo' THAT the two or three hours he was with yo'." "What do you want with me?" demanded Mrs. Bunker angrily. "I want a letter yo' have for me from Cunnle Marion." "I have nothing for you," said Mrs. Bunker. "I don't know who you are."
"I gave up my husband for it, and I went to the man who loved it better and had risked more for it than ever he had. Cunnle Marion's my friend. I'm Mrs. Fairfax, Josephine Hardee that was; HIS disciple and follower. Well, maybe those puritanical No'th'n folks might give it another name!" She moved slowly towards the door, but on the threshold paused, as Colonel Marion had, and came back to Mrs.
"You ought to, considering you've been acting as messenger between the cunnle and me," said the lady coolly. "That's not true," said Mrs. Bunker hotly, to combat an inward sinking. The lady rose with a lazy, languid grace, walked to the door and called still lazily, "O Pedro!" The solitary rower clambered up the rocks and appeared on the cottage threshold.
Bunker with an outstretched hand. "I don't see that yo' and me need quo'll. I didn't come here for that. I came here to see yo'r husband, and seeing YO' I thought it was only right to talk squarely to yo', as yo' understand I WOULDN'T talk to yo'r husband. Mrs. Bunker, I want yo'r husband to take me away I want him to take me to the cunnle.
But Courtland had winning ways with all dependents. "But you will answer me ONE question, Sophy, and I'll not ask another. Has" he hesitated in his still uncertainty as to the actuality of his experience and its probable extent "has Cato escaped?" "If yo' mean dat sassy, bull-nigger oberseer of yo'se, cunnle, HE'S safe, yo' bet!" returned Sophy sharply.
"Is this the lady who gave you the letters for me and to whom you took mine?" "Si, senora." "They were addressed to a Mr. Kirby," said Mrs. Bunker sullenly. "How was I to know they were for Mrs. Kirby?" "Mr. Kirby, Mrs. Kirby, and myself are all the same. You don't suppose the cunnle would give my real name and address? Did you address yo'r packet to HIS real name or to some one else.
Their eyes met. "Broken?" he said interrogatively, with a faint return of his old deliberate manner, glancing at his helpless arm. "Deedy no, cunnle! Snake bite," responded the negress. "Snake bite!" repeated Courtland with languid interest, "what snake?" "Moccasin o' copperhead if you doun know yo'se'f which," she replied. "But it's all right now, honey! De pizen's draw'd out and clean gone.
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