Remember the Alamo [111]
found her
in the most delightful temper. She sat before the glass,
smiling and talking, while her maid piled high the snowy
plaits and curls and crowned them with the jewelled comb, only
worn on very great festivals. Her form was still good, and
the white satin fell gracefully from her throat to her small
feet. Besides, whatever of loss or gain had marred her once
fine proportions, was entirely concealed by the beautifying,
graceful, veiling folds of her mantilla. There was the flash
of diamonds, and the moonlight glimmer of pearls beneath this
flimsy covering; and at her belt a few white lilies. She was
exceedingly pleased with her own appearance, and her
satisfaction gave an ease and a sense of authority to her air
and movements which was charming.
"By Maria's grace, I am a very pretty old lady," she said to
herself; "and I think I shall I astonish my daughter-in-law a
little. One is afraid of these calm, cool, northern women,
but I feel to-day that even Abbie must be proud of me."
Indeed, her entrance into the large parlor made quite a
sensation. She could see the quiet pleasure in her husband's
face; and her son Thomas, after one glance, put down the
child on his knee, and went to meet her. "Mi madre," he
whispered with a kiss. He had not used the pretty Spanish
word for years, but in the sudden rush of admiring tenderness,
his boyish heart came back to him, and quite unconsciously he
used his boyhood's speech. After this, she was not the least
in awe of her wise daughter-in-law. She touched her cheek
kindly, and asked her about the children, and was immeasurably
delighted when Abbie said: "How beautiful you are to-day! I
wish I had your likeness to send to Boston. Robert, come here
and look at your grandmother! I want you to remember, as long
as you live, how grandmother looks to-day." And Robert--a
fine lad eight years old, accustomed to implicit obedience--
put down the book he was reading, planted himself squarely
before the Senora, and looked at her attentively, as if she
was a lesson to be learned.
"Well then, Roberto?"
"I am glad I have such a pretty grandmother. Will you let me
stand on tiptoes and kiss you?" and the cool, calm northern
woman's eyes filled with tears, as she brought her younger
children, one by one, for the Senora's caress. The
doctor and his son watched this pretty domestic drama with
hearts full of pride and happiness; and before it had lost one
particle of its beauty and feeling, the door was flung open
with a vigor which made every one turn to it with expectation.
A splendid little lad sprang in, and without any consideration
for satin and lace, clung to the Senora. He was her image: a
true Yturbide, young as he was; beautiful and haughty as his
Castilian ancestors.
Isabel and Luis followed; Isabel more lovely than ever, richly
dressed in American fashion, full of pretty enthusiasms,
vivacious, charming, and quite at her ease. She had been
married eight years. She was a fashionable woman, and an
authority upon all social subjects.
Luis also was wonderfully improved. The light-hearted gaiety,
which ten years ago had bubbled over in continual song, was
still there; but it was under control, evident only because it
made perpetual sunshine on his face. He had taken the
doctor's advice--completed his study of English and Mexican
law--and become a famous referee in cases of disputed Mexican
claims and title deeds. His elegant form and handsome,
olive face looked less picturesque in the dull, uncompromising
stiffness of broadcloth, cut into those peculiarly unbecoming
fashions of ugliness which the anglo-Saxon and anglo-American
affect. But it gained by the change a certain air of
reliability and importance; an air not to be dispensed with in
a young lawyer already aspiring to the seat among the
lawmakers of his State.
"We called upon Antonia," said Isabel, "as we came here. Of
course she was engaged with Lopez. They were reading a book
together; and even on such a day as this were taking,
in the most delightful temper. She sat before the glass,
smiling and talking, while her maid piled high the snowy
plaits and curls and crowned them with the jewelled comb, only
worn on very great festivals. Her form was still good, and
the white satin fell gracefully from her throat to her small
feet. Besides, whatever of loss or gain had marred her once
fine proportions, was entirely concealed by the beautifying,
graceful, veiling folds of her mantilla. There was the flash
of diamonds, and the moonlight glimmer of pearls beneath this
flimsy covering; and at her belt a few white lilies. She was
exceedingly pleased with her own appearance, and her
satisfaction gave an ease and a sense of authority to her air
and movements which was charming.
"By Maria's grace, I am a very pretty old lady," she said to
herself; "and I think I shall I astonish my daughter-in-law a
little. One is afraid of these calm, cool, northern women,
but I feel to-day that even Abbie must be proud of me."
Indeed, her entrance into the large parlor made quite a
sensation. She could see the quiet pleasure in her husband's
face; and her son Thomas, after one glance, put down the
child on his knee, and went to meet her. "Mi madre," he
whispered with a kiss. He had not used the pretty Spanish
word for years, but in the sudden rush of admiring tenderness,
his boyish heart came back to him, and quite unconsciously he
used his boyhood's speech. After this, she was not the least
in awe of her wise daughter-in-law. She touched her cheek
kindly, and asked her about the children, and was immeasurably
delighted when Abbie said: "How beautiful you are to-day! I
wish I had your likeness to send to Boston. Robert, come here
and look at your grandmother! I want you to remember, as long
as you live, how grandmother looks to-day." And Robert--a
fine lad eight years old, accustomed to implicit obedience--
put down the book he was reading, planted himself squarely
before the Senora, and looked at her attentively, as if she
was a lesson to be learned.
"Well then, Roberto?"
"I am glad I have such a pretty grandmother. Will you let me
stand on tiptoes and kiss you?" and the cool, calm northern
woman's eyes filled with tears, as she brought her younger
children, one by one, for the Senora's caress. The
doctor and his son watched this pretty domestic drama with
hearts full of pride and happiness; and before it had lost one
particle of its beauty and feeling, the door was flung open
with a vigor which made every one turn to it with expectation.
A splendid little lad sprang in, and without any consideration
for satin and lace, clung to the Senora. He was her image: a
true Yturbide, young as he was; beautiful and haughty as his
Castilian ancestors.
Isabel and Luis followed; Isabel more lovely than ever, richly
dressed in American fashion, full of pretty enthusiasms,
vivacious, charming, and quite at her ease. She had been
married eight years. She was a fashionable woman, and an
authority upon all social subjects.
Luis also was wonderfully improved. The light-hearted gaiety,
which ten years ago had bubbled over in continual song, was
still there; but it was under control, evident only because it
made perpetual sunshine on his face. He had taken the
doctor's advice--completed his study of English and Mexican
law--and become a famous referee in cases of disputed Mexican
claims and title deeds. His elegant form and handsome,
olive face looked less picturesque in the dull, uncompromising
stiffness of broadcloth, cut into those peculiarly unbecoming
fashions of ugliness which the anglo-Saxon and anglo-American
affect. But it gained by the change a certain air of
reliability and importance; an air not to be dispensed with in
a young lawyer already aspiring to the seat among the
lawmakers of his State.
"We called upon Antonia," said Isabel, "as we came here. Of
course she was engaged with Lopez. They were reading a book
together; and even on such a day as this were taking,