Alamo (San Antonio, Tex.) -- Siege, 1836 -- Fiction; Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; War stories; Western stories
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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