The door at that moment was opened from the outside; and one of the aides entered, ushering a stranger, who stepped briskly in after him.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
A Bereaved Parent.
The individual thus introduced had all the air of one who had sustained a loss—but of a much graver kind than the stealing of his chicks.
At a glance I could see that he was a Spanish-American of the pure Iberian blood—the boasted sangre azul of Andalusia—without any trace of the Aztecan. Perhaps a Spaniard resident in Mexico—in other words, a Gachupino? He had, at all events, the distinguished bearing of the hidalgo; which was further confirmed by the fineness of his habiliments, that differed very little from what might be seen on a well-dressed English gentleman of the old school: for the stranger was a man of advanced age.
He was clean shaven, without moustache or whisker; the hair upon his head short-cut and snow-white; while that upon his arched eyebrows was as black as it might have been at the age of twenty!
A piercing eye still showed the capability of flashing fire, when occasion required it. Just then it was filled with a sombre light; and his whole demeanour betokened a man who suffered from some overwhelming sorrow.
Under its influence his habitual serenity had forsaken him; and, without pausing inside the door, he walked hurriedly up to the general, and commenced to unburden himself.