She turned the colt's head abruptly to the west and touched his flanks with her whip.
So it fell out that as the packet foamed its passage backward from Carewe's wharf into the current, the owner of the boat, standing upon the hurricane deck, heard a cry from the shore, and turned to behold his daughter dash down to the very end of the wharf on the well-lathered colt.

Miss Betty's hair was blown about her face; her cheeks were rosy, her eager eyes sparkling from more than the hard riding.
"Papa!" she cried, "I'm sorry!" She leaned forward out of the saddle, extending her arms to him appealingly in a charming gesture, and, absolutely ignoring the idlers on the wharf and the passengers on the steamer, was singly intent upon the tall figure on the hurricane-deck.

"Papa--good-by.

Please forgive me!" "By the Almighty, but that's a fine woman!" said the captain of the boat to a passenger from Rouen.

"Is she his daughter ?" "Please forgive me!" the clear voice came again, with its quaver of entreaty, across the widening water; and then, as Mr.Carewe made no sign, by word or movement, of hearing her, and stood without the slightest alteration of his attitude, she cried to him once more: "Good-by!" The paddle-wheels reversed; the boat swung down the river, Mr.Carewe still standing immovable on the hurricane-deck, while, to the gaze of those on the steamer, the figure on the bay colt at the end of the wharf began to grow smaller and smaller.