Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
“Don’t you believe that the Lord made them of one blood with us?” said Miss Ophelia, shortly. “No, indeed, not I! A pretty story, truly! They are a degraded race.” “Don’t you think they’ve got immortal souls?” said Miss Ophelia, with in- creasing indignation. “O, well,” said Marie, yawning, “that, of course-nobody doubts that. But as to putting them on any sort of equality with us, you know, as if we could be com- pared, why, it’s impossible! Now, St. Clare really has talked to me as if keeping Mammy from her husband was like keeping me from mine. There’s no comparing in this way. Mammy couldn’t have the feelings that I should. It’s a different thing altogether,- of course, it is-and yet St. Clare pretends not to see it. And just as if Mammy could love her little dirty babies as I love Eva! Yet St. Clare once really and soberly tried to persuade me that it was my duty, with my weak health, and all I suffer, to let Mammy go back, and take somebody else in her place. That was a little too much even for me to bear. I don’t often show my feelings. I make it a principle to endure everything in silence; it’s a wife’s hard lot, and I bear it. But I did break out, that time; so that he has never alluded to the subject since. But I know by his looks, and little things that he says, that he thinks so as much as ever; and it’s so trying, so provoking.” Miss Ophelia looked very much as if she was afraid she should say some- thing; but she rattled away with her needles in a way that had volumes of mean- ing in it, if Marie could only have understood it. |