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"
On
your
hospitality
,
perhaps
?
Excuse
me
,
Mr
Gerald
!
"
continued
the
young
lady
,
a
slight
shadow
suddenly
overcasting
her
countenance
.
"
I
did
not
think
of
it
!
Perhaps
you
do
not
live
alone
?
Some
other
shares
your
--
jacalé
--
as
you
call
it
?
"
"
Oh
,
yes
,
I
have
a
companion
--
one
who
has
been
with
me
ever
since
I
--
"
The
shadow
became
sensibly
darker
.
Before
the
mustanger
could
finish
his
speech
,
his
listener
had
pictured
to
herself
a
certain
image
,
that
might
answer
to
the
description
of
his
companion
:
a
girl
of
her
own
age
--
perhaps
more
inclining
to
embonpoint
--
with
a
skin
of
chestnut
brown
;
eyes
of
almond
shade
,
set
piquantly
oblique
to
the
lines
of
the
nose
;
teeth
of
more
than
pearly
purity
;
a
tinge
of
crimson
upon
the
cheeks
;
hair
like
Castro
's
tail
;
beads
and
bangles
around
neck
,
arms
,
and
ankles
;
a
short
kirtle
elaborately
embroidered
;
mocassins
covering
small
feet
;
and
fringed
leggings
,
laced
upon
limbs
of
large
development
.
Such
were
the
style
and
equipments
of
the
supposed
companion
,
who
had
suddenly
become
outlined
in
the
imagination
of
Louise
Poindexter
.
"
Your
fellow
tenant
of
the
jacalé
might
not
like
being
intruded
upon
by
visitors
--
more
especially
a
stranger
?
"
"
On
the
contrary
,
he
's
but
too
glad
to
see
visitors
at
any
time
--
whether
strangers
or
acquaintances
.
My
foster-brother
is
the
last
man
to
shun
society
;
of
which
,
poor
fellow
!
he
sees
precious
little
on
the
Alamo
.
"
"
Your
foster-brother
?
"
"
Yes
.
Phelim
O'Neal
by
name
--
like
myself
a
native
of
the
Emerald
Isle
,
and
shire
of
Galway
;
only
perhaps
speaking
a
little
better
brogue
than
mine
.
"
"
Oh
!
the
Irish
brogue
.
I
should
so
like
to
hear
it
spoken
by
a
native
of
Galway
.
I
am
told
that
theirs
is
the
richest
.
Is
it
so
,
Mr
Gerald
?
"
