This allusion to a passage of Scripture which Mr. Marvyn was reading when he came in, and which nobody supposed he had attended to, startled Mrs. Scudder, who thought, mentally, “Now for it!” and laid down her knitting-work, and eyed her cousin anxiously.  Mrs. Marvyn and Mary, who had glided in and joined the circle, looked interested; and a slight flush rose and overspread the thin cheeks of Mr. Marvyn, and his blue eyes deepened a moment with a thoughtful shadow, as he looked inquiringly at the Doctor, who proceeded:—­

“My mind labors with this subject of the enslaving of the Africans, Mr. Marvyn.  We have just been declaring to the world that all men are born with an inalienable right to liberty.  We have fought for it, and the Lord of Hosts has been with us; and can we stand before Him with our foot upon our brother’s neck?”

A generous, upright nature is always more sensitive to blame than another,—­sensitive in proportion to the amount of its reverence for good,—­and Mr. Marvyn’s face flushed, his eye kindled, and his compressed respiration showed how deeply the subject moved him.  Mrs. Marvyn’s eyes turned on him an anxious look of inquiry.  He answered, however, calmly:—­

“Doctor, I have thought of the subject, myself.  Mrs. Marvyn has lately been reading a pamphlet of Mr. Thomas Clarkson’s on the slave-trade, and she was saying to me only last night, that she did not see but the argument extended equally to holding slaves.  One thing, I confess, stumbles me:—­Was there not an express permission given to Israel to buy and hold slaves of old?”

“Doubtless,” said the Doctor; “but many permissions were given to them which were local and temporary; for if we hold them to apply to the human race, the Turks might quote the Bible for making slaves of us, if they could,—­and the Algerines have the Scripture all on their side,—­and our own blacks, at some future time, if they can get the power, might justify themselves in making slaves of us.”

“I assure you, Sir,” said Mr. Marvyn, “if I speak, it is not to excuse myself.  But I am quite sure my servants do not desire liberty, and would not take it, if it were offered.”

“Call them in and try it,” said the Doctor.  “If they refuse, it is their own matter.”

There was a gentle movement in the group at the directness of this personal application; but Mr. Marvyn replied, calmly,—­

“Cato is up at the eight-acre lot, but you may call in Candace.  My dear, call Candace, and let the Doctor put the question to her.”

Candace was at this moment sitting before the ample fireplace in the kitchen, with two iron kettles before her, nestled each in its bed of hickory coals, which gleamed out from their white ashes like sleepy, red eyes, opening and shutting.  In one was coffee, which she was burning, stirring vigorously with a pudding-stick,—­and in the other, puffy dough-nuts, in shapes of rings, hearts, and marvellous twists, which Candace had such a special proclivity for making, that Mrs. Marvyn’s table and closets never knew an intermission of their presence.