But I saw that she turned the corner of her eye upon him at intervals as she moved forward, and that she was not sorry or annoyed to find that he kept his gaze boldly upon her all the while. Presently he looked about him, and singled out an acquaintance, to whom he made his way. Five minutes later he was being introduced, as Captain Falconer, to Mrs. Winwood. "'Faith," said he, in a courteous, subdued voice, after bowing very low, "I did not think to find a lady so recently from St. James', in this place. One might swear, looking at you, madam, that this was Almack's." "Sir, you speak to one that never saw St. James' but in imagination," said Margaret, coolly. "Sure one can be white, and moderately civil, and yet be of New York." "The deuce, madam! A native? You?" "Ay, sir, of the aborigines; the daughter of a red Indian!" "'Fore God, then, 'tis no wonder the American colonists make war upon the Indian race. Their wives and daughters urge 'em to it, out of jealousy of the red men's daughters." "Why, if they wished the red ladies exterminated, they couldn't do better than send a number of king's officers among 'em--famous lady-killers, I've heard." "Madam, I know naught of that; nor of the art of lady-killing itself, which I never desired to possess until this evening." The captain's eyes, so languid with melancholy or ennui a short while before, now had the glow of pre-determined conquest; his face shone with that resolve; and by this transformation, as well as by the inconsistency of his countenance with the soft tone and playful matter of his words, which inconsistency betrayed the gentleness to be assumed, I read the man through once for all: selfish, resolute, facile, versatile, able to act any part thoroughly and in a moment, constant to his object till it was won, then quick to leave it for another; unscrupulous, usually invincible, confident of his proven powers rather than vain of fancied ones; good-natured when not crossed, and with an irresistible charm of person and manner. And Margaret too--there was more and other meaning in her looks than in her light, ironical speeches. He led her through two minuets that night, and was her partner in the Virginia reel (the name the Americans give the Sir Roger de Coverly); and his was the last face we saw at our coach window as we started homeward. "You've made the rest of the army quite jealous of this new captain," growled Tom, as we rolled Southward over the stony Harlem road. "The way Major Tarleton glared at him, would have set another man trembling." "Captain Falconer doesn't tremble so easily, I fancy," said Margaret. "And yet he's no marvel of a man, as I can see."