THE SALE
There was a crowd of people out that day to attend the sale of Colonel
Tiffton's household effects. Even fair ladies, too, came in their
carriages, holding high their aristocratic skirts as they threaded their
way through the rooms where piles of carpeting and furniture of various
kinds lay awaiting the shrill voice and hammer of the auctioneer, a
portly little man, who felt more for the family than his appearance
would indicate.
There had been a long talk that morning between himself and a young
lady, a stranger to him, whose wondrous beauty had thrilled his heart
just as it did every heart beating beneath a male's attire. The lady had
seemed a little worried, as she talked, casting anxious glances up the
Lexington turnpike, and asking several times when the Lexington cars
were due.
"It shan't make no difference. I'll take your word," the auctioneer had
said in reply to some doubts expressed by her. "I'd trust your face for
a million," and with a profound bow by way of emphasizing his
compliment, the well-meaning Skinner went out to the group assembled
near Rocket while the lady returned to the upper chamber where Mrs.
Tiffton and Ellen were assembled.
Once Harney's voice, pitched in its blandest tone, was heard talking to
the ladies, and then Ellen stopped her ears, exclaiming passionately:
"I hate that man, I hate him. I almost wish that I could kill him."
"Hush, Ellen; remember! 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the
Lord,'" Alice whispered to the excited girl who answered hastily:
"Don't preach to me now. I'm too wretched. Wait till you lose everything
by one man's villainy, then see if you won't curse him."
There was an increased confusion in the yard below, and Alice knew the
sale was about to commence. The white-haired colonel kept watch while
one after another of his household goods were sold. Inferior articles
they were at first, and the crowd were not much disposed to bid, but all
were dear to the old man, who groaned each time an article was knocked
off, and so passed effectually from his possession.
The crowd grew weary at last--they must have brisker sport than that, if
they would keep warm in that chilly November wind, and cries for the
"horses" were heard.
"Your crack ones, too. I'm tired of this," growled Harney, and Ellen's
riding pony was led out. The colonel saw the playful animal, and
tottered to Ellen's chamber, saying:
"They're going to sell Beauty, Nell. Poor Nellie, don't cry," and the
old man laid his hand on his weeping daughter's head.
"Colonel Tiffton, this way please," and Alice spoke in a whisper. "I
want Beauty. Couldn't you bid for me, bid all you would be willing to
give if you were bidding for Ellen?"
The colonel looked at her in a kind of dazed, bewildered way, as if not
fully comprehending her, till she repeated her request; then
mechanically he went back to his post on the balcony, and just as
Harney's last bid was about to receive the final "gone," he raised it
twenty dollars, and ere Harney had time to recover his astonishment,
Beauty was disposed of, and the colonel's servant Ham led her in triumph
back to the stable.
With a fierce scowl of defiance Harney called for Rocket. Suspecting
something wrong the animal refused to come out, and planting his fore
feet firmly upon the floor of the stable, kept them all at bay. With a
fierce oath, the brutal Harney gave him a stinging blow, which made the
tender flesh quiver with pain, but the fiery gleam in the noble animal's
eye warned him not to repeat it. Suddenly among the excited group of
dusky faces he spied that of Claib, and bade him lead out the horse.
"I can't. Oh, mas'r, for the dear--" Claib began, but Harney's riding
whip silenced him at once, and he went submissively in to Rocket, who
became as gentle beneath his touch as a lamb.
Did the sagacious creature think then of Hugh, and fancy Claib had come
to lead him home? We cannot tell. We only know how proudly he arched his
graceful neck, as with dancing, mincing steps, he gamboled around Claib,
rubbing his nose against the honest black face, where the tears were
standing, and trying to lick the hands which had fed him so often at
Spring Bank.
Loud were the cries of admiration which hailed his appearance.
The bids were very rapid, for Rocket was popular, but Harney bided his
time, standing-silently by, with a look on his face of cool contempt for
those who presumed to think they could be the fortunate ones. He was
prepared to give more than any one else. Nobody would go above his
figure, he had set it so high--higher even than Rocket was really worth.
Five hundred and fifty, if necessary. No one would rise above that,
Harney was sure, and quietly waited until the bids were far between, and
the auctioneer still dwelling upon the last, seemed waiting expectantly
for something.
"I believe my soul the fellow knows I mean to have that horse," thought
Harney, and with an air which said, "that settles it," he called out in
loud, clear tones, "Four hundred," thus adding fifty at one bid.
There was a slight movement then in the upper balcony, an opening of the
glass door, and a suppressed whisper ran through the crowd, as Alice
came out and stood by the colonel's aide.
The bidding went on briskly now, each bidder raising a few dollars, till
four hundred and fifty was reached, and then there came a pause, broken
only by the voice of the excited Claib, who, as he confessed to Hugh,
had ventured to speak for himself, and was rewarded for his temerity by
a blow from Harney. With that blow still tingling about his ears and
confusing his senses, Claib could not well tell whence or from whom came
that silvery, half-tremulous voice, which passed so like an electric
shock through the eager crowd, and rousing Harney to a perfect fury.
"Five hundred."
There was no mistaking the words, and with a muttered curse at the fair
bidder shrinking behind the colonel, and blushing, as if in shame,
Harney yelled out his big price, all he had meant to give. He was mad
with rage, for he knew well for whom that fair Northern girl was
interested. He had heard much of Alice Johnson--had seen her
occasionally in the Spring Bank carriage as she stopped in Frankfort;
and once she had stopped before his store, asking, with such a pretty
grace, that the piece of goods she wished to look at might be brought to
her for inspection, that he had determined to take it himself, but
remembered his dignity as half millionaire, and sent his head clerk
instead.
Beneath Harney's coarse nature there was a strange susceptibility to
female beauty, and neither the lustrous blue of Alice's large eyes, nor
yet the singular sweetness of her voice, as she thanked the clerk for
his trouble, had been forgotten. He had heard that she was rich--how
rich he did not know--but fancied she might possibly be worth a few
paltry thousands, not more, and so, of course, she was not prepared to
compete with him, who counted his gold by hundreds of thousands. Five
hundred was all she would give for Rocket. How, then was he surprised
and chagrined when, with a coolness equal to his own, she kept steadily
on, scarcely allowing the auctioneer to repeat his bid before she
increased it, and once, womanlike, raising on her own.
"Fie, Harney! Shame to go against a girl! Better give it up, for don't
you see she's resolved to have him? She's worth half Massachusetts, too,
they say."
These and like expressions met Harney on every side, until at last, as
he paused to answer some of them, growing heated in the altercation, and
for the instant forgetting Rocket, the auctioneer brought the hammer
down with a click which made Harney leap from the ground, for by that
sound he knew that Rocket was sold to Alice Johnson for six hundred
dollars!
Meantime Alice had sought the friendly shelter of Ellen's room, where
the tension of nerve endured so long gave way, and sinking upon the sofa
she fainted, just as down the Lexington turnpike came the man looked for
so long in the earlier part of the day. She could not err, in Mr.
Liston's estimation, and Alice grew calm again, and in a hurried
consultation explained to him more definitely than her letter had done,
what her wishes were--Colonel Tiffton must not be homeless in his old
age. There were ten thousand dollars lying in the ---- Bank in
Massachusetts, so she would have Mosside purchased in her name for
Colonel Tiffton, not as a gift, for he would not accept it, but as a
loan, to be paid at his convenience. This was Alice's plan, and Mr.
Liston acted upon it at once. Taking his place in the motley assemblage,
he bid quietly, steadily, until at last Mosside, with its appurtenances,
belonged ostensibly to him, and the half-glad, half-disappointed people
wondered greatly who Mr. Jacob Liston could be, or from what quarter of
the globe he had suddenly dropped into their midst.
Colonel Tiffton knew that nearly everything had been purchased by him,
and felt glad that a stranger rather than a neighbor was to occupy what
had been so dear to him, and that his servants would not be separated.
With Ellen it was different. A neighbor might allow them to remain there
a time, she said, while a stranger would not, and she was weeping
bitterly, when, as the sound of voices and the tread of feet gradually
died away from the yard below, Alice came to her side, and bending over
her, said softly, "Could you bear some good news now--bear to know who
is to inhabit Mosside?"
"Good news?" and Ellen looked up wonderingly.
"Yes, good news, I think you will call it," and then as deliberately as
possible Alice told what had been done, and that the colonel was still
to occupy his old home, "As my tenant, if you like," she said to him,
when he began to demur.
When at last it was clear to the old man, he laid his hand upon the head
of the young girl and whispered huskily, "I cannot thank you as I would,
or tell you what's in my heart, God bless you, Alice Johnson."
Alice longed to say a word to him of the God to whom he had thus paid
tribute, but she felt the time was hardly then, and after a few more
assurances to Ellen started for Spring Bank, where Mrs. Worthington and
Adah were waiting for her.