"If I should tell you I thought there was nothing better worth seeing
than my daughters, you would perhaps excuse a father's partiality,"
rejoined Mr. Royal.

"Your daughters!" exclaimed his companion, in a tone of surprise. "I
never heard that you were married."

A shadow of embarrassment passed over the merchant's face, as he
replied, "Their mother was a Spanish lady,--a stranger here,--and she
formed no acquaintance. She was a woman of a great heart and of rare
beauty. Nothing can ever make up her loss to me; but all the joy that
remains in life is centred in the daughters she has left me. I should
like to introduce them to you; and that is a compliment I never before
paid to any young man. My home is in the outskirts of the city; and
when we have dined at the hotel, according to my daily habit, I will
send off a few letters, and then, if you like to go there with me, I
will call a carriage."

"Thank you," replied the young man; "unless it is your own custom to
ride, I should prefer to walk. I like the exercise, and it will give a
better opportunity to observe the city, which is so different from our
Northern towns that it has for me the attractions of a foreign land."

In compliance with this wish, Mr. Royal took him through the principal
streets, pointing out the public buildings, and now and then stopping
to smile at some placard or sign which presented an odd jumble of
French and English. When they came to the suburbs of the city, the
aspect of things became charmingly rural. Houses were scattered here
and there among trees and gardens. Mr. Royal pointed out one of them,
nestled in flowers and half encircled by an orange-grove, and said,