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"
Good
God
,
it
is
my
daughter
!
"
Poindexter
drops
from
his
saddle
,
and
hastens
up
to
the
hut
--
close
followed
by
Calhoun
.
Both
go
inside
.
"
Louises
what
means
this
?
A
wounded
man
!
Is
it
he
--
Henry
?
"
Before
an
answer
can
be
given
,
his
eye
falls
upon
a
cloak
and
hat
--
Henry
's
!
"
It
is
;
he
's
alive
!
Thank
heaven
!
"
He
strides
towards
the
couch
.
The
joy
of
an
instant
is
in
an
instant
gone
.
The
pale
face
upon
the
pillow
is
not
that
of
his
son
.
The
father
staggers
back
with
a
groan
.
Calhoun
seems
equally
affected
.
But
the
cry
from
him
is
an
exclamation
of
horror
;
after
which
he
slinks
cowed-like
out
of
the
cabin
.
"
Great
God
!
"
gasps
the
planter
;
"
what
is
it
?
Can
you
explain
,
Louise
?
"
"
I
can
not
,
father
.
I
've
been
here
but
a
few
minutes
.
I
found
him
as
you
see
.
He
is
delirious
.
"
"
And
--
and
--
Henry
?
"
