Mrs. King’s peculiar style of beauty and rich foreign dress attracted universal attention; but still greater admiration was excited by her dancing, which was the very soul of music taking form in motion; and as the tremulous diamond drops of the fuchsias kept time with her graceful movements, they sparkled among the waving folds of her black lace mantilla, like fire-flies in a dark night.  She was, of course, the prevailing topic of conversation; and when Mr. Green was not dancing, he was called upon to repeat, again and again, the account of her wonderful debut in the opera at Rome.  In the midst of one of these recitals, Mrs. Fitzgerald and her son entered; and a group soon gathered round that lady, to listen to the same story from her lips.  It was familiar to her son; but he listened to it with quickened interest, while he gazed at the beautiful opera-singer winding about so gracefully in the evolutions of the dance.

Mr. King was in the same set with his lady, and had just touched her hand, as the partners crossed over, when he noticed a sudden flush on her countenance, succeeded by deadly pallor.  Following the direction her eye had taken, he saw a slender, elegant young man, who, with some variation in the fashion of dress, seemed the veritable Gerald Fitzgerald to whom he had been introduced in the flowery parlor so many years ago.  His first feeling was pain, that this vision of her first lover had power to excite such lively emotion in his wife; but his second thought was, “He recalls her first-born son.”

Young Fitzgerald eagerly sought out Mr. Green, and said:  “Please introduce me the instant this dance is ended, that I may ask her for the next.  There will be so many trying to engage her, you know.”

He was introduced accordingly.  The lady politely acceded to his request, and the quick flush on her face was attributed by all, except Mr. King, to the heat produced by dancing.

When her young partner took her hand to lead her to the next dance, she stole a glance toward her husband, and he saw that her soul was troubled.  The handsome couple were “the observed of all observers”; and the youth was so entirely absorbed with his mature partner, that not a little jealousy was excited in the minds of young ladies.  When he led her to a seat, she declined the numerous invitations that crowded upon her, saying she should dance no more that evening.  Young Fitzgerald at once professed a disinclination to dance, and begged that, when she was sufficiently rested, she would allow him to lead her to the piano, that he might hear her sing something from Norma, by which she had so delighted his mother, in Rome.

“Your son seems to be entirely devoted to the queen of the evening,” said Mr. Green to his cousin.

“How can you wonder at it?” replied Mrs. Fitzgerald.  “She is such a superb creature!”

“What was her character in Rome?” inquired a lady who had joined the group.