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Updated: June 19, 2025
"O my Lord!" she said, in the negrofied phrase natural to her latitude, "I wish it was no sin to wish him dead." "Tell me, my friend," said Reybold, "can I do nothing to assist you both? Let me understand you. Accept my sympathy and confidence. Where is Uriel's father? What is this mystery?" She did not answer. "It is for no idle curiosity that I ask," he continued.
"Thanks, Cleburn," said Bee; "this is a compliment not likely to be forgotten, coming from you. Then it is agreed, as the Chayman of yo' Committee, that I accede to the request of Mr. Reybold, of Pennsylvania?" "Aye!" from everybody. "And now," said Mr. Bee, "as we wair all up late at the club last night, I propose we take a second julep, and as Reybold is coming in he will jine us."
If I was strong, like other little boys, I would make money for her, so that she shouldn't keep any boarders except Mr. Reybold. Oh! she has to work a lot; but she's proud and won't tell anybody. All the money I get I mean to give her; but I wouldn't have it if I had to beg for it like that man!" "O Beau," said Colonel Jeems Bee, "you've cotched it now! Reybold's even with you.
Between Reybold and Joyce there were already the delicate relations of a girl who did not know that she was a woman and a man who knew she was beautiful and worthy.
He is now in pursuit of the ahem! the Kinvas-back on his ancestral waters. If he should hear that you suggest a pacific life and the groveling associations of the capital for him, he might call you out, sir!" Reybold said no more; but one evening when Mrs.
Admiration, conciliation, and pain were in the ruined vagrant's eyes. Reybold felt a sense of pity. He put his hand in his pocket and drew forth a dollar. "Here, Beau," he said, "I'll make an exception. You seem to have some feeling. Don't mind the boy!" In an instant the coin was flying from his hand through the air.
"Joyce Basil Miss Joyce Basil to you, gentlemen. My mother keeps boarders. Mr. Reybold boards there. I think it's hard when a little boy from the South wants to work, that the only body to help him find it is a Northern man. Don't you?" "Good hit!" cried Jeroboam Coffee, Esq., of Alabama. "That boy would run, if he could!"
His estates can not be more precious to his heart, if he is a man of honor; nay, what is better than honor, his duty requires him to come to the side of these children, though he be ever so constrained by business or pleasure to attend to more worldly concerns." "The Judge," exclaimed Mrs. Basil, much miffed, "is a man of hereditary ijees, Colonel Reybold.
She was alone and in tears, but the little boy Uriel slept before the chimney-fire on a rug, and his pale, thin face, catching the glow of the burning wood, looked beautified as Reybold addressed the young woman. "Miss Joyce," he said, "our little brother works too hard. Is there never to be relief for him?
"Short cards in the front saloon," he said; "supper and faro back. Chambers on the third floor. Walk up." Reybold only tarried a moment at the gaming tables, where the silent, monotonous deal from the tin box, the lazy stroke of the markers, and the transfer of ivory "chips" from card to card of the sweat-cloth, impressed him as the dullest form of vice he had ever found.
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