"But those Italian paintings, Robert, those beautiful landscapes, and the Venus, do you know for how much they were sold?"
"Dey were knocked down for not more dan sixty pounds de tree."
"For which I gave three hundred!" exclaimed De Brooke.
"Tink no more of it, massa, tink no more of it," said the honest black, wiping a tear from his eye; "preserb your health, let what will happen; shut up in dis cold chamber, 'tis enough to gib you an ague fit."
"Repeat not these expressions to my wife, Robert; tell her I am well, and keep your kind sympathies to yourself. My father—has there been any message from him?"
"None, Sir."
"It is well; go, my good fellow; return to your mistress. I need not commend her to your vigilance; I know your worth and hitherto faithful services, which are the best warrant for those of the future."
"As long as me hab any blood in my veins, me would stand by your youngest shild."
"I doubt it not, my honest friend," waving his hand; "let me see you again tomorrow."
Thus did matters rest, and De Brooke was still left
