“Indeed? Why then have you never mentioned his name to me? Your aunt lanched out in praise of his friend, and you vaunted Ambrosio’s eloquence: but neither said a word of Don Lorenzo’s person and accomplishments. Had not Leonella spoken of his readiness to undertake our cause, I should not have known him to be in existence.”

She paused. Antonia coloured, but was silent.

“Perhaps you judge him less favourably than I do. In my opinion his figure is pleasing, his conversation sensible, and manners engaging. Still he may have struck you differently: you may think him disagreeable, and.⁠ ⁠…”

“Disagreeable? Oh! dear mother, how should I possibly think him so? I should be very ungrateful were I not sensible of his kindness yesterday, and very blind if his merits had escaped me. His figure is so graceful, so noble! His manners so gentle, yet so manly! I never yet saw so many accomplishments united in one person, and I doubt whether Madrid can produce his equal.”