After a smoke I hurried over to Congress Hall and found Carlotta and Herrara Lola in the parlor. She was looking perfectly lovely in a morning dress of India muslin, and with her hair flowing loose through a band of gold. For the first time now I felt the abashment I had dreaded, and realized the disadvantage at which I appeared, in person and manners, after my long residence among books and boys, as I met the glance of Herrara’s dark eyes, and imagined I could detect a smile at my discomfiture beneath the jetty fringe on his lip.
“Cousin Herrara!” said Carlotta, “this is John, my brother; you almost know him, I have spoken to you so much of him.”
I bowed low over his hand, which was soft, and small as a woman’s, as he said, with just enough Spanish in his accent to soften the English:
“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Smith. Lola has made us acquainted ere this occasion.”
His manners were those of a courteous iceberg, and I endeavored to adjust mine to a reciprocal degree of frigidity. I had just commenced a stereotyped reply when the same horses and carriage I had seen at the railway drove up, and he remarked to Carlotta:
“I ordered the carriage for our usual drive, but I presume you now prefer renewing old times and terms with your friend.”
“Certainly, Cousin Herrara, I will stay with John, as I have not seen him for years, and am with you every day.”
“I resign her then to you, Mr. Smith,” he said, turning off, while I thanked him with an attempt at one of his bows. He approached a group of gentlemen outside the door and asked two of them to ride with him. The three got into the carriage, a few plunges of the noble animals and the spokes in the wheels became almost invisible as they whirled up the street.
“A superb equipage!” I said, as we took our seats near the window.