longer rose beneath the heels of his horse, whose flying shadow passed
over the field like a cloud, leaving no trail or track behind it. In the
preoccupation of his thought and his breathless retrospect, the young
man had ridden faster than he intended, and he now checked his panting
horse. The influence of the night and the hushed landscape stole over
him; his thoughts took a gentler turn; in that dim, mysterious horizon
line before him, his future seemed to be dreamily peopled with airy,
graceful shapes that more or less took the likeness of Susy. She was
bright, coquettish, romantic, as he had last seen her; she was older,
graver, and thoughtfully welcome of him; or she was cold, distant, and
severely forgetful of the past. How would her adopted father and mother
receive him? Would they ever look upon him in the light of a suitor to
the young girl? He had no fear of Peyton,--he understood his own sex,
and, young as he was, knew already how to make himself respected; but
how could he overcome that instinctive aversion which Mrs. Peyton had
so often made him feel he had provoked? Yet in this dreamy hush of earth
and sky, what was not possible? His boyish heart beat high with daring
visions.
He saw Mrs. Peyton in the porch, welcoming him with that maternal smile
which his childish longing had so often craved to share with Susy.
Peyton would be there, too,--Peyton, who had once pushed back his torn
straw hat to look approvingly in his boyish eyes; and Peyton, perhaps,
might be proud of him.
Suddenly he started. A voice in his very ear!
"Bah! A yoke of vulgar cattle grazing on lands that were thine by right
and law. Neither more nor less than that. And I tell thee, Pancho, like
cattle, to be driven off or caught and branded for one's own. Ha! There
are those who could swear to the truth of this on the Creed. Ay! and
bring papers stamped and signed by the governor's rubric to prove it.
And not that I hate them,--bah! what are those heretic swine to me? But
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