hey rapidly approached, she recognized her
brother, and knew that the young gentleman who accompanied him must be
his friend, Bryant Clinton. The steed on which he was mounted was black
as a raven, and the hair of the young man was long, black, and flowing
as his horse's sable mane. As he came near, reining in the high mettled
animal, while his locks blew back in the breeze, enriched with the same
golden lustre with which every thing was shining, Mittie suddenly
remembered Miss Thusa's legend of the black horseman, with the jetty
hair entwined in the maiden's bleeding heart. Strange, that it should
come back to her so vividly and painfully.

Louis recognized his sister, standing on the airy arch of the bridge, and
rode directly to the garden gate. Clinton did the same, but instead of
darting through the gate, as Louis did, he only dismounted, lifted his
hat gracefully from his head, and bowed with lowly deference--then
throwing his arm over the saddle bow, he waited till the greeting was
over. Mittie was not the favorite sister of Louis, for she had repelled
him as she had all others by her cold and haughty self-concentration--but
though he did not _love_ her as he did Helen, she was his sister, she
appeared to him the personification of home, of womanhood, and his pride
was gratified by the full blown flower and splendor of her beauty. She
had gained much in height since he had last seen her; her hair, which was
then left waving in the wild freedom of childhood, was now gathered into
bands, and twisted behind, showing the classic contour of her head and
neck. Louis had never thought before whether Mittie was handsome or not.
She had not seemed so to him. He had never spoken of her as such to his
friend. Helen, sweet Helen, was the burden of his speech, the one lovely
sister of his heart. The idea of being proud of Mittie never occurred to
him, but now she flashed upon him like a new revelation, in the glow and
freshness and power of her just developed womanly charms. He was glad he
had found her in that picturesque spot, graceful attitude, and partaking
largely and richly of the glorification of nature. He was glad that
Bryant Clinton, the greatest connoisseur in female beauty he had ever
seen, should meet her for the first time under circumstances of peculiar
personal advantage. He thought, too, there was more than her wonted
cordiality in her greeting, and that her cheek grew warm under his
hearty, brotherly kiss.