Before she could finish the sentence, Flora started up, and flew into the adjoining room.  A short, quick cry, “O Floracita!” “O Rosabella!” and they were locked in each other’s arms.

After hugging and kissing, and weeping and laughing by turns, Mrs. King said:  “That must have been Madame’s parrot.  The sight of her made me think of old times, and I said, ’Bon jour, jolie Manon!  Your back was toward me, and I should have passed on, if my attention had not been arrested by her wild outpouring of French and Spanish.  I suppose she knew my voice.”

“Bless the dear old bird!” exclaimed Flora.  “It was she who brought us together again at last.  She shall come in to see you.”

They went out to bring in their old pet.  But jolie Manon was lying on the floor of her cage, with eyes closed and wings outstretched.  The joyful surprise had been too much for her feeble old nerves.  She was dead.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

“So you are alive!” exclaimed Rosa, holding her sister back a little, and gazing upon her face with all her soul in her eyes.

“Yes, very much alive,” answered Flora, with a smile that brought out all her dimples.

“But do tell me,” said Rosa, “how you came to go away so strangely, and leave me to mourn for you as if you were dead.”

The dimples disappeared, and a shadow clouded Flora’s expressive eyes, as she replied:  “It would take a long while to explain all that, sistita mia.  We will talk it over another time, please.”

Rosa sighed as she pressed her sister’s hand, and said:  “Perhaps I have already conjectured rightly about it, Floracita.  My eyes were opened by bitter experiences after we were parted.  Some time I will explain to you how I came to run to Europe in such a hurry, with Madame and the Signor.”

“But tell me, the first thing of all, whether Tulee is dead,” rejoined Flora.

“You know Madame was always exceedingly careful about expense,” responded Rosa.  “Mrs. Duroy was willing to board Tulee for her work, and Madame thought it was most prudent to leave her there till we got established in Europe, and could send for her; and just when we were expecting her to rejoin us, letters came informing us that Mr. and Mrs. Duroy and Tulee all died of yellow-fever.  It distresses me beyond measure to think of our having left poor, faithful Tulee.”

“When we found out that Mr. Fitzgerald had married another wife,” replied Flora, “my new Mamita kindly volunteered to go with me in search of you and Tulee.  We went to the cottage, and to the plantation, and to New Orleans.  Everybody I ever knew seemed to be dead or gone away.  But Madame’s parrot was alive, and her chattering led me into a stranger’s house, where I heard that you were lost at sea on your way to Europe; and that Tulee, with a white baby she had charge of, had died of yellow-fever.  Was that baby yours, dear?”