And as he spoke the stage-coach reached the banks of the river, and drew
up before the little ferry-house. Here the travellers alighted, and had
their baggage taken off. And the coach, waiting only long enough to
change horses and to pick up passengers, all of whom, both man and
beast, had been brought over from the village by the ferry-boat, went on
its way, which lay along the east bank of the river.
Mr. Berners had his luggage and that of his party put upon the
ferry-boat, and then he led the ladies on board. He saw them comfortably
seated, and the nurse and child in a safe place, and then he turned to
the aged ferry-man with hearty good will, and inquired: "Well, old Charon! all right with you?"
"Yes, sir, thank Heaven!" replied the old man, whose occupation,
combined with his great age and flowing gray locks, yet stalworth form
and unbroken strength, had conferred upon him the name of his infernal
predecessor--the navigator of the River Styx.
"All right in the village, and in the valley?" further inquired Mr.
Berners.
"All right in the willage, sir. And Joe, who has just arrove at the
tavern, do report all right in the walley," was the satisfactory answer
of the ferry-man.
"Oh! then our carriage is waiting for us there?"
"Yes, sir, which it arrove just about twenty minutes ago, punk-too-well
to time!" replied the old man.
The passage across the Black River is very short, and just as the
ferry-man spoke, the boat touched the wharf immediately under the
lighted windows of the hotel, before the doors of which they saw the
Black Hall carriage and horses standing.
Mr. Berners assisted the ladies of his party to land, and proposed that
they should stop at the hotel and take supper before going on to Black
Hall.
"Oh, no! please don't, on any account! I feel sure that Miss Tabby has
laid out all her talent on the supper that is awaiting us at home. And
she would weep with disappointment and mortification if we should stop
to supper here," eagerly objected Sybil.
"Miss Tabby is our housekeeper; the best creature, but the greatest
whimperer in existence. She is, in turn, Sybil's tyrant and Sybil's
slave; for she is both despotic and devoted, and scolds and pets her
alternately and unreasonably as a foolish mother does an only child,"
explained Mr. Berners, turning to Mrs. Blondelle.
"And her lady?" inquired Rosa, with an admiring glance toward Mrs.
Berners.
"Oh! Sybil turns the tables, you may be sure, and indulges or rebukes
her housekeeper as the occasion may demand," laughed Lyon.
"Come here, Joe!" called Mrs. Berners to her coachman, who was seen
coming out of the tap-room.
"Bress my two eyes, Miss Sybil! how glad dey is to see you, and you too,
Marse Lyon!" exclaimed a very black, short, squarely built, good-humored
looking negro coachman, as he came and bowed to his master and mistress.