They sung the power of the man and the tenderness of
the young sister whose soul followed her brother's, and they called from
that ark on the waters for saints and angels to come down and bless the
beds of the two. The bells intoned with them, and a sinking wind
carried a lighter ripple against the house.
"Send them out," spoke Peggy Morrison, with an imperious sweep of the
arm; and the half-breed authoritatively hurried the other slaves back to
their doorway. The submissive race understood and obeyed, anxiously
watching Peggy as she wavered in her erectness and groped with the
fingers of both hands.
"Put camphor under Ma'amselle Peggy's nose, Wachique," whispered
Achille.
Peggy found Rice's chair, and sat down; but as soon as she returned to a
consciousness of the bottle under her nose and an arm around her, she
said,--
"Go away. A Morrison never faints."
Angelique was kneeling like a nun. She felt the push of a foot.
"Stop that crying," said Peggy fiercely. "I hate to hear it. What right
have you to cry?"
"No right at all.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153