t.

"_Pasan adentro, Senores_," said Don Cosme, stepping aside, and waving
us to enter.

We walked into the drawing-room. The magnificence that greeted us
seemed a vision--a glorious and dazzling hallucination--more like the
gilded brilliance of some enchanted palace than the interior of a
Mexican gentleman's habitation.

As we stood gazing with irresistible wonderment, Don Cosme opened a
side-door, and called aloud, "_Ninas, ninas, ven aca_!" (Children, come
hither!)

Presently we heard several female voices, blending together like a
medley of singing birds.

They approached. We heard the rustling of silken dresses, the falling
of light feet in the doorway, and three ladies entered--the senora of
Don Cosme, followed by her two beautiful daughters, the heroines of our
aquatic adventure.

These hesitated a moment, scanning our faces; then, with a cry of
"_Nuestro Salvador_!" both rushed forward, and knelt, or rather
crouched, at my feet, each of them clasping one of my hands and covering
it with kisses.

Their panting agitation, their flashing eyes, the silken touch of their
delicate fingers, sent the blood rushing through my veins like a stream
of lava; but in their gentle accents, the simple ingenuousness of their
expressions, the childlike innocence of their faces, I regarded them
only as two beautiful children kneeling in the _abandon_ of gratitude.

Meanwhile Don Cosme had introduced Clayley and the major to his senora,
whose baptismal name was Joaquina; and taking the young ladies one in
each hand, he presented them as his daughters, Guadalupe and Maria de la
Luz (Mary of the Light).

"Mama," said Don Cosme, "the gentlemen had not quite finished their
cigars."

"Oh! they can smoke here," replied the senora.

"Will the ladies not object to that?" I inquired.

"No--no--no!" ejaculated they simultaneously.

"Perhaps you will join us?--we have heard that such is the custom of
your country."

"It _was_ the custom," said Don Cosme. "At present the young ladies of
Mexico are rather ashamed of the habit."

"We no smoke--Mamma, yes," added the elder--the brunette--whose name was
Guadalupe.

"Ha! you speak English?"

"Little Englis speak--no good Englis," was the reply.

"Who taught you English?" I inquired, prompted by a mysterious
curiosity.

"Un American us teach--Don Emilio."

"Ha! an American?"

"Yes, Senor," said Don Cosme: "a gentleman from Vera Cruz, who formerly
visited our famil