t, she assiduously gave Mammy reading
lessons.

CHAPTER XXIII

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.

"Th