Frances had, indeed, thought there was
something like a smile passing over the features of the traveler, when,
on entering the room, he first confronted her brother; but it was
confined to the eyes, seeming to want power to affect the muscles of the
face, and was soon lost in the settled and benevolent expression which
reigned in his countenance, with a sway but seldom interrupted. The eyes
of the affectionate sister were turned in anxiety, for a moment, on her
brother, and glancing again on their unknown guest, met his look, as he
offered her, with marked attention, one of the little civilities of the
table; and the heart of the girl, which had begun to throb with
violence, regained a pulsation as tempered as youth, health, and buoyant
spirits could allow. While yet seated at the table, Caesar entered, and
laying a small parcel in silence by the side of his master, modestly
retired behind his chair, where, placing one hand on its back, he
continued in an attitude half familiar, half respectful, a listener.
"What is this, Caesar?" inquired Mr. Wharton, turning the bundle over to
examine its envelope, and eying it rather suspiciously.
"The 'baccy, sir; Harvey Birch, he got home, and he bring you a little
good 'baccy from York."
"Harvey Birch!" rejoined the master with great deliberation, stealing a
look at his guest.
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