"Ever since my guardian, Major Warfield, brought me from the City of New York, where I received my education (in the streets)," she mentally added.
"Humph! Why did you ride so fast, my pretty Cap?" he asked, eying her from the corner of his eyes.
"Oh, sir, because I was afraid, as I told you before; afraid of runaway negroes and wild beasts, and so on; but now, with a good gentleman like you, I don't feel afraid at all; and I'm very glad to be able to walk poor Gyp, because he is tired, poor fellow."
"Yes, poor fellow," said the traveler, in a mocking tone, "he is tired; suppose you dismount and let him rest. Come, I'll get off, too, and we will sit down here by the roadside and have a friendly conversation."
Capitola stole a glance at his face. Yes, notwithstanding his light tone, he was grimly in earnest; there was no mercy to be expected from that sly, sinister, cruel face.
"Come, my pretty Cap, what say you?"
"I don't care if I do," she said, riding to the edge of the path, drawing rein and looking down as if to examine the ground.
"Come, little beauty, must I help you off?" asked the stranger.
"N-n-no," answered Capitola, with deliberate hesitation; "no, this is not a good place to sit down and talk; it's all full of brambles."
"Very well; shall we go on a little further?"