This lady was the sister of Señor Don Sancho, and the owner of the hatto.
The two young people embraced each other for a long while without exchanging a word, and then Don Sancho offered his arm to his sister, and entered the house with her, leaving the Major-domo to look after his horse and baggage.
The young gentleman led his sister to an easy chair, fetched one for himself, rolled it up to her side, and sat down.
"At last," she said a moment later, in an affectionate voice, as she took one of the young man's hands in her own, "I see you again, brother; you are here, near me—how glad I am to see you."
"My dear Clara," Don Sancho replied, as he kissed her forehead, "we have been separated for nearly a year."
"Alas!" she murmured.
"And during that year many things have doubtless happened, of which you will inform me?"
"Alas! My life during this year may be summed up in two words—I have suffered."
"Poor sister, how changed you are in so little time, I could hardly recognize you; I came to St. Domingo with such joy, and no sooner had I landed than I went to your palace; your husband, who has not altered, and whom I found as heavy and silent as usual, with an increased dose of importance, doubtless the result of his high position, told me that you were not very well, and that the physicians had ordered you country air."
"It is true," she said, with a sad smile.