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"
I
am
sure
of
it
,
"
said
the
planter
's
son
.
"
I
can
tell
the
horseman
yonder
to
be
Maurice
Gerald
.
"
The
planter
's
daughter
could
have
done
the
same
;
though
she
made
no
display
of
her
knowledge
.
She
did
not
appear
to
be
much
interested
in
the
matter
--
indeed
,
rather
indifferent
.
She
had
become
aware
of
being
watched
by
that
evil
eye
,
constantly
burning
upon
her
.
The
cavallada
came
up
,
Maurice
sitting
handsomely
on
his
horse
,
with
the
spotted
mare
at
the
end
of
his
lazo
.
"
What
a
beautiful
creature
!
"
exclaimed
several
voices
,
as
the
captured
mustang
was
led
up
in
front
of
the
house
,
quivering
with
excitement
at
a
scene
so
new
to
it
.
"
It
's
worth
a
journey
to
the
ground
to
look
at
such
an
animal
!
"
suggested
the
major
's
wife
,
a
lady
of
enthusiastic
inclinings
.
"
I
propose
we
all
go
down
!
What
say
you
,
Miss
Poindexter
?
"
"
Oh
,
certainly
,
"
answered
the
mistress
of
the
mansion
,
amidst
a
chorus
of
other
voices
crying
out
--
"
Let
us
go
down
!
Let
us
go
down
!
"
Led
by
the
majoress
,
the
ladies
filed
down
the
stone
stairway
--
the
gentlemen
after
;
and
in
a
score
of
seconds
the
horse-hunter
,
still
seated
in
his
saddle
,
became
,
with
his
captive
,
the
centre
of
the
distinguished
circle
.
Henry
Poindexter
had
hurried
down
before
the
rest
,
and
already
,
in
the
frankest
manner
,
bidden
the
stranger
welcome
.
Between
the
latter
and
Louise
only
a
slight
salutation
could
be
exchanged
.
Familiarity
with
a
horse-dealer
--
even
supposing
him
to
have
had
the
honour
of
an
introduction
--
would
scarce
have
been
tolerated
by
the
"
society
.
"
