“Yes, Señor—Mister Stranger, and I hope you will like it,” answered Carlota.
The younger gentleman now made a formal presentation:
“This is Mr. George Disbrow, my father; and I am Rupert, his son. Maybe you have heard of us, Miss Carlota.”
“No, Mr. Rupert, never. Did you ever see our father?”
“I have not, but my father knew him very well.”
“How delightful! Isn’t he— Didn’t you love him dearly?” she eagerly demanded of the elder man.
“Hmm. I can’t say that there was any affection between us.”
At this reply Carlota drew back, chilled; but Mr. Rupert immediately began to speak of her beautiful home and its curiosities and for her, as for Carlos, there was no theme more beloved.
Forgetting her annoyance she hastily began to lead her guest about the ancient buildings, descanting upon every object they passed with such eagerness that she thereby greatly confused his ideas concerning them. So that he pleaded:
“Slowly, little lady, please. It’s all so wonderful to me I want to take it carefully. This was the refectory, you say. Do you still use it for a dining hall?”