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."