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Candace shut the door, that no sound might escape, and began a confidential outpouring to Miss Prissy. "Ye see," she said, "I's feelin's all de while for Miss Marvyn; 'cause, ye see, she was expectin', ef eber Mary was married, well dat 'twould be to somebody else, ye know." Miss Prissy responded with a sympathetic groan.
And then, hanging a large basket on either arm, she rolled majestically towards the house, like a heavy-laden Indiaman, coming in after a fast voyage. "Good-mornin', Miss Scudder! good-mornin', Doctor!" she said, dropping her curtsy on the door-step; "good-mornin', Miss Mary! Ye see our folks was stirrin' pootty 'arly dis mornin', an' Miss Marvyn sent me down wid two or tree little tings."
I dreamed I see Jim Marvyn a-sinkin' in de water, an' stretchin' up his hands. An' den I dreamed I see de Lord Jesus come a-walkin' on de water, an' take hold ob his hand, an' says he, 'O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt? An' den he lifted him right out.
If it were not for this mysterious selfness-and-sameness which makes this wild, wandering, uncanonical sailor, James Marvyn, so intimate and internal, if his thread were not knit up with the thread of her life, were it not for the old habit of feeling for him, thinking for him, praying for him, hoping for him, fearing for him, which woe is us! is the unfortunate habit of womankind, if it were not for that fatal something which neither judgment, nor wishes, nor reason, nor common sense shows any great skill in unravelling, we are quite sure that Mary would be in love with the Doctor within the next six months; as it is, we leave you all to infer from your own heart and consciousness what his chances are.
She clasped her hands instinctively on her bosom, as if to hold there some cherished image, and said in a piercing voice of supplication, "My God! my God! oh, where art Thou?" Mrs. Marvyn walked up and down the room with a vivid spot of red in each cheek and a baleful fire in her eyes, talking in rapid soliloquy, scarcely regarding her listener, absorbed in her own enkindled thoughts. "Dr.
Marvyn had been considered eminent for her "faculty" in bringing up children. But James was destined to put "faculty," and every other talent which his mother possessed, to rout. He was an infant of moods and tenses, and those not of any regular verb.
An' so, says I, 'Cato, your buttons mus' wait' An' Cato, he sees de 'priety ob it, 'cause, dough he can't make cake like me, he's a 'mazin' good judge on't, an' is dre'ful tickled when I slips out a little loaf for his supper." "How is Mrs. Marvyn?" said Mrs. Scudder. "Kinder thin and shimmery; but she's about, habin' her eyes eberywar, 'n' lookin' into eberyting.
She sunk a dutiful curtsy, and stood twirling her thumbs, while the Doctor surveyed her gravely. "Candace," said he, "do you think it right that the black race should be slaves to the white?" The face and air of Candace presented a curious picture at this moment; a sort of rude sense of delicacy embarrassed her, and she turned a deprecating look, first on Mrs. Marvyn and then on her master.
Marvyn began to amend, Mary returned to the home cottage, and resumed the details of her industrious and quiet life. Between her and her two best friends had fallen a curtain of silence. The subject that filled all her thoughts could not be named between them.
Added to this, a very tender and silent friendship subsisted between Mrs. Marvyn and Mary; in which, besides similarity of mind and intellectual pursuits, there was a deep, unspoken element of sympathy. Candace watched the light in Mary's eyes with the instinctive shrewdness by which her race seem to divine the thoughts and feelings of their superiors, and chuckled to herself internally.
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