Chapter 7 - Page 2

nice an old woman for a mother, as pretty a little girl
for a niece, and as snug a haven to moor in, at the end of the voyage, as
any old worn-out sea-dog could or ought to wish."

"Yes, sir, Masser Mile," Neb answered, as I fancied, in the manner of one
who was thinking of something different from what he said; "yes, sir, Mr.
Marble a reg'lar sea-dog."

"And as such not the less entitled to have a good old mother, a pretty
niece, and a snug home."

"No, sir; none de wuss for bin' sea-dog, all must allow. Nebberdeless,

Masser Mile, I sometime wish you and I nebber hab see salt water."

"That is almost as much as wishing we never looked down the Hudson from
the hills and banks of Clawbonny boy; the river itself being salt not far
below us. You are thinking of Chloe, and fancying, that had you stayed at
home, your chance of getting into her good graces would have been better."

"No, Masser Mile; no, _sir_. Nobody at Clawbonny t'ink, just now, of
anyt'ing but deat'."

I started in surprise. Mr. Hardinge kept everything like exaggeration and
those physical excitements which it is so much the habit of certain sects
to mistake for religious impulses, even from the negroes of the Clawbonny
property. Neb's speech sounded more like an innovation of this nature than
I had ever heard among my people; and I looked hard at the fellow for an
instant, before I answered.

"I am afraid I understand you, Neb," was my reply, after a meaning pause.
"It is a relief to me to find that my people retain all their affections
for the children of their old master and mistress."

"We hard-hearted indeed, sir, if we don't. Ah! _Masser_ Mile, you and I
see many dreadful t'ing togeder, but we nebber see any t'ing like dis!"

Neb's dark cheek was glistening with tears as he spoke, and I spurred my
horse, lest my own manhood might give way, there in the road, and in the
presence of those who were fast approaching. Why Neb had expressed sorrow
for having ever gone to sea, I could not account for in any other manner
than by supposing that he imagined Grace was, in some manner, a sufferer
by my absence from home.

When I reached the house, not a soul was visible. The men had all gone to
church, and were to be seen in the distance, coming, along the road,
singly and in a melancholy manner, not a sign of the customary,
thoughtless merriment of a negro escaping a single individual among them;
but it was usual for some of the black Venuses to be seen sunning
themselves at that season, exhibiting their summer finery to each other
and their admirers. Not one was now visible. All the front of the house,
the lawn,