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On
hearing
she
was
not
the
first
of
her
sex
who
had
that
day
made
inquiries
respecting
Maurice
the
mustanger
,
Louise
Poindexter
rode
back
to
Casa
del
Corvo
,
with
a
heart
writhing
under
fresh
laceration
.
A
night
was
spent
in
the
agony
of
unrest
--
sleep
only
obtained
in
short
snatches
,
and
amidst
the
phantasmagoria
of
dreamland
.
Though
the
morning
restored
not
her
tranquillity
,
it
brought
with
it
a
resolve
,
stern
,
daring
,
almost
reckless
.
It
was
,
at
least
,
daring
,
for
Louise
Poindexter
to
ride
to
the
Alamo
alone
;
and
this
was
her
determination
.
There
was
no
one
to
stay
her
--
none
to
say
nay
.
The
searchers
out
all
night
had
not
yet
returned
.
No
report
had
come
back
to
Casa
del
Corvo
.
She
was
sole
mistress
of
the
mansion
,
as
of
her
actions
--
sole
possessor
of
the
motive
that
was
impelling
her
to
this
bold
step
.
But
it
may
be
easily
guessed
.
Hers
was
not
a
spirit
to
put
up
with
mere
suspicion
.
Even
love
,
that
tames
the
strongest
,
had
not
yet
reduced
it
to
that
state
of
helpless
submission
.
Unsatisfied
it
could
no
longer
exist
;
and
hence
her
resolve
to
seek
satisfaction
.
She
might
find
peace
--
she
might
chance
upon
ruin
.
Even
the
last
appeared
preferable
to
the
agony
of
uncertainty
.
How
like
to
the
reasoning
of
her
rival
!
It
would
have
been
idle
to
dissuade
her
,
had
there
been
any
one
to
do
it
.
It
is
doubtful
even
if
parental
authority
could
at
that
moment
have
prevented
her
from
carrying
out
her
purpose
.
Talk
to
the
tigress
when
frenzied
by
a
similar
feeling
.
With
a
love
unhallowed
,
the
will
of
the
Egyptian
queen
was
not
more
imperious
than
is
that
of
the
American
Creole
,
when
stirred
by
its
holiest
passion
.
It
acknowledges
no
right
of
contradiction
--
regards
no
obstruction
save
death
.
