Mexico. His skin was swarthy, his features regular, and his beard
luxuriant and soft as silk. His eyes were large and black as sloes, his
teeth small, regular, and white as ivory, and his whole countenance,
when in repose, wore an expression which won confidence rather than
excited distrust. But when conversing, there was an indefinable
craftiness in his smile, and a peculiar cunning in the twinkle of his
eye, that often strikes the traveler in Mexico, as pervading all that
class who are accustomed to making excursions into the interior. His
costume, covered with dust, and torn in many places, led me to infer
that he had only just returned from some long journey.

'After waiting, with great politeness, for some few seconds, to allow
Arthur time to address him, and finding he waited in vain, the Mexican
opened the conversation:

''I fear your excellency will scold me for delaying so long on the road;
but how could I help it? I am more to be pitied than blamed--I lost
three horses--at monte--and if it had not been by good luck that the ace
turned up when I staked my saddle and bridle, I should not be here even
now; but the ace won; I bought a fresh horse--and here I am.'

''What success?' inquired Arthur, with a look of intense anxiety; 'did
you bring any?'

''Certainly,' replied Pepito, handing him very unconcernedly a small
package; 'I brought more than you told me, and, in fact, I might have
brought a mule-load if you had wanted so many.'

''Adéle!' cried Mr. Livermore, overcome with delight, as he rushed into
my room, 'Adéle, HE HAS FOUND IT!'