“Get out of this, will you, Jewann, don’t you see the lady?” addressed to a dirty, commonplace-looking little urchin, of about nine years old, who sat tilting himself forward and back upon the edge of one of the aforesaid barrels, with infinite peril to life and limb. This rather remarkable name, with her felicitous rendering of it, seemed to me circumstantial evidence, and I gathered courage to ask, “Are you the person who takes care of José’s children? I have come to see them for him.”
“Yes, miss, walk in; we’ve but a poor place, as you see. Rosy, come speak to the lady.”
But it needed not the name; as soon as my eyes rested on the child in the corner, I was satisfied that this was her father’s darling; and who could wonder at his love! Rarely have I seen a more perfect specimen of “beauty unadorned”—the rarity of the jewel enhanced and thrown out by the coarseness of its setting. She lifted her eyes from the floor, on which she was playing, to stare at the unwonted visitor—large, liquid, Spanish eyes—with that expression of love and confidence in them which seldom outlives childhood. Those tangled black curls, her father’s pride, were almost hidden beneath a common, coarse, little worsted hood, in which she had stuck four or five chicken feathers, which gave her a sort of picturesque air; a large stain of the dirt in which she was living, rested on one cheek; but it seemed merely a shadow bringing out the bright tints beneath.
“Come here, Rosy, I say, and speak to the lady; she’s just seen your pappy.”
At that word she sprang up, and came wonderingly to my side, never taking those eyes from my face.
“Yes,” said I; “I have just come from him, and he wants so badly to see his little Rosita; what will she send him?”
In a moment her little arms were tightly clasped round my neck, as I bent down to speak to her, and those rosy lips were pressed to mine, in a warm, loving kiss.
Quite aware that this mute message, eloquent as it was, could scarcely be delivered with satisfaction to any of the parties concerned, I drew one of the feathers from her cap, and said, “Shall I tell him his little girl sent him this?”
A bright, beaming smile, was the only answer I could extract. The woman now began a piteous story of having to provide for them—no money, etc., etc.,—backed by her husband, who appeared, pipe in his mouth, from some back den, evidently hoping to extort funds; but when they discovered that I was in possession of all the facts, with regard to the support of the children, they seemed to find it useless to proceed; and finally agreeing to my request that one of them would take the children to see their father, I left the direction, visiting days, etc., with them.
Once more I stood by that bedside, which I had so lately left, with that deep groan ringing in my ears.