Page:Romance & Reality 3.pdf/12

10 the common earthenware of the country, Donna Margaretta's cup was of exquisitely painted china, and placed on a small silver stand wrought in filagree. The meal passed cheerfully, even gaily. If Beatrice was silent, and seemingly anxious, her mother appeared to be even in high spirits. Delighted to see a countryman of her own, she asked a thousand questions. The sound of an English voice and English words carried her back to her childhood; and the birds and flowers she had then loved now rose upper most in her recollections. She often alluded to her husband—said he would soon be home—and repeatedly dwelt on the pleasure it would give him to see an Englishman. Breakfast was scarcely finished before she rose, and asked Edward to accompany her to her garden. "It is just like an English one." "It is very hot, dear mother—had you not better stay in the house?" "There, now—when my garden is so cool. You will go, will you not?" said she, with an air of pretty childish entreaty to Edward. "We won't take you, Beatrice." Beatrice rose, and, calling the old black servant, spoke to him in a low voice in Spanish.