“Come, come, Eva; you are only a child!
You don’t know anything about these things,”
said Marie; “besides, your talking makes my head
ache.”
Marie always had a headache on hand for any conversation
that did not exactly suit her.
Eva stole away; but after that, she assiduously gave
Mammy reading lessons.
Henrique
About this time, St. Clare’s brother Alfred,
with his eldest son, a boy of twelve, spent a day
or two with the family at the lake.
No sight could be more singular and beautiful than
that of these twin brothers. Nature, instead
of instituting resemblances between them, had made
them opposites on every point; yet a mysterious tie
seemed to unite them in a closer friendship than ordinary.
They used to saunter, arm in arm, up and down the
alleys and walks of the garden. Augustine, with
his blue eyes and golden hair, his ethereally flexible
form and vivacious features; and Alfred, dark-eyed,
with haughty Roman profile, firmly-knit limbs, and
decided bearing. They were always abusing each
other’s opinions and practices, and yet never
a whit the less absorbed in each other’s society;
in fact, the very contrariety seemed to unite them,
like the attraction between opposite poles of the
magnet.
Henrique, the eldest son of Alfred, was a noble, dark-eyed,
princely boy, full of vivacity and spirit; and, from
the first moment of introduction, seemed to be perfectly
fascinated by the spirituelle graces of his cousin
Evangeline.
Eva had a little pet pony, of a snowy whiteness.
It was easy as a cradle, and as gentle as its little
mistress; and this pony was now brought up to the
back verandah by Tom, while a little mulatto boy of
about thirteen led along a small black Arabian, which
had just been imported, at a great expense, for Henrique.
Henrique had a boy’s pride in his new possession;
and, as he advanced and took the reins out of the
hands of his little groom, he looked carefully over
him, and his brow darkened.
“What’s this, Dodo, you little lazy dog!
you haven’t rubbed my horse down, this morning.”
“Yes, Mas’r,” said Dodo, submissively;
“he got that dust on his own self.”
“You rascal, shut your mouth!” said Henrique,
violently raising his riding-whip. “How
dare you speak?”
The boy was a handsome, bright-eyed mulatto, of just
Henrique’s size, and his curling hair hung round
a high, bold forehead. He had white blood in
his veins, as could be seen by the quick flush in his
cheek, and the sparkle of his eye, as he eagerly tried
to speak.
“Mas’r Henrique!—” he
began.
Henrique struck him across the face with his riding-whip,
and, seizing one of his arms, forced him on to his
knees, and beat him till he was out of breath.
“There, you impudent dog! Now will you
learn not to answer back when I speak to you?
Take the horse back, and clean him properly. I’ll
teach you your place!”
