He clasped his hands and gazed, as Pedro had just done, with such intensity that the sportsman, observing the rudeness, said to his friend—
“Aw—don’t you think it would be as well to—aw—kick the fellow out of the room?”
“Hallo! what’s this?” exclaimed the old colonel, turning sharply on Lawrence with a magnificent frown.
It was quite evident that he, as well as Pedro and our hero, had also received a most unexpected surprise, for, not only did the youth continue to stand gazing, with clasped hands, but the young lady did not seem in the least offended. On the contrary, she looked up at the colonel with an incomprehensible expression and a bewitching smile, as she said, in excellent English—
“He is not rude, father, only astonished. Let me introduce my friend and preserver, Mr Lawrence Armstrong.”
But Lawrence heard not, and cared nothing for the introduction.
“It is Manuela!” he exclaimed, with a hesitating step forward, and a look of unbelief still lingering in his eyes.
She held out her little white hand!
He grasped it. The same hand certainly! There could be no doubt about that.
“’Pon my honour—aw—the most interesting tableau vivant I ever—aw—saw!”