Despite his position in society--far superior to her own--despite his fine clothes and speeches, she saw through the character of the man, and believed him to be both a pretender and poltroon. She knew that he was cruel--a tyrant to all who had the misfortune to be under him, and a hard task-master to the black-skinned slaves that lived upon his father's plantation. Though dissipated, he was not generous; and, with all the plenty he possessed, he was accounted among his associates the closest of screws. He spent money, and enough of it, but only upon himself, and in the indulgence of his own sensual desires. He had obtained the reputation of being one of the meanest fellows in the neighbourhood to which he belonged; and Lena Rook knew it. She had never liked him as a boy; and her aversion was increased by her knowledge that, as a boy, he had been the bitter enemy of Pierre Robideau. She did not think how much of this hostility was due to herself; for, from an early period, the son of the planter had been bitterly jealous of her playmate and companion. But she remembered the scene in the glade; she believed that Alf Brandon had been the chief instigator; and she had, all along, suspected that Pierre's absence was in some way due to what had that day transpired. She was very pleased to see Brandon now, only because he had rescued her from a position that promised to become embarrassing. What answer could she have made to that question her father had asked? The opportune arrival had relieved her from an agony of apprehension. The planter--now that his father was dead, no longer the planter's son-- seemed a little surprised at the pleased look with which she received him. She was not accustomed to give him such gracious acceptance, and little dreamt he of its cause. "No doubt," reasoned he, with a feeling of self-gratulation, "she's heard I'm now my own master, and won't much object to my becoming her's. A planter in his own right is a very different individual from a planter expectant; and Miss Lena Rook will have the sense to see it. I don't think there will be much difficulty about this thing. She's been only pretending with me in the past; now that she sees all's ready, I guess she'll not stand shilly-shallying any longer. So here goes for the proposals." This string of reflections were made after Alfred Brandon had entered the gate, and was making his way towards the porch, on which the young lady was still standing. They were finished as he set foot on the step. There was no one to interfere with the conversation that came after. Jerry Rook, suspecting the purport of the planter's visit, had stayed behind to hitch up his horse, and afterwards found excuse to stray off to the back of the house, leaving the two alone. "I suppose you have heard of my affliction, Miss Rook?" said Brandon, after salutations had been exchanged. "My father has been just telling me of it."