Вершник без голови

Chapter 27

           Couldtheladyhaveriddenouttomeethim,orMauricegonein?

           Weretheyatthatmomentinthewoods,orwithinthewallsofthehouse?Iftheformer,wasDonSilvioawareofit?Ifthelatter,washeathome—anapprovingpartytotheassignation?

           WithsuchquestionswastheCreoleafflictingherself,whentheneighofahorsebrokeabruptlyonherear,followedbythechinkingofashodhoofagainstthestonesofthecauseway.Shelookedbelow:forshehadhalteduponthecrest,asteepacclivity.Themustangerwasascendingit—ridingdirectlytowardsher.Shemighthaveseenhimsooner,hadshenotbeenoccupiedwiththemoredistantview.

           Hewasalone,ashehadriddenpastCasadelCorvo.Therewasnothingtoshowthathehadrecentlybeenincompany—muchlessinthecompanyofaninamorata.

           ItwastoolateforLouisetoshunhim.Thespottedmustanghadrepliedtothesalutationofanoldacquaintance.Itsriderwasconstrainedtokeepherground,tillthemustangercameup.

           "Goodday,MissPoindexter?"saidhe—forupontheprairiesitisnotetiquettefortheladytospeakfirst."Alone?"

           "Alone,sir.Andwhynot?"

           "’Tisasolitaryrideamongthechapparals.Buttrue:IthinkI’veheardyousayyoupreferthatsortofthing?"

           "Youappeartolikeityourself,MrGerald.Toyou,however,itisnotsosolitary,Ipresume?"

           "InfaithIdolikeit;andjustforthatveryreason.

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