There was the little fountain in their father’s garden, the lonely cottage on the island, the skeleton of the dead pine tree, with the moon peeping through its streamers of moss, and Thistle with his panniers full of flowers.  Among the variety of foreign scenes, Mrs. King particularly admired the dancing peasants from Frascati.

“Ah,” said Flora, “I see them now, just as they looked when we passed them on our beautiful drive to Albano.  It was the first really merry day I had had for a long time.  I was just beginning to learn to enjoy myself without you.  It was very selfish of me, dear Rosa, but I was forgetful of you, that day.  And, only to think of it! if it had not been for that unlucky apparition of Mr. Fitzgerald, I should have gone to the opera and seen you as Norma.”

“Very likely we should both have fainted,” rejoined Rosa, “and then the manager would have refused to let La Campaneo try her luck again.  But what is this, Floracita?”

“That is a group on Monte Pincio,” she replied.  “I sketched it when I was shut up in my room, the day before you came out in the opera.”

“I do believe it is Madame and the Signor and I,” responded Rosa.  “The figures and the dresses are exactly the same; and I remember we went to Monte Pincio that morning, on my return from rehearsal.”

“What a stupid donkey I was, not to know you were so near!” said Flora.  “I should have thought my fingers would have told me while I was drawing it.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Rosa, “here is Tulee!” Her eyes moistened while she gazed upon it.  “Poor Tulee!” said she, “how she cared for me, and comforted me, during those dark and dreadful days!  If it hadn’t been for her and Chloe, I could never have lived through that trouble.  When I began to recover, she told me how Chloe held my hand hour after hour, and prayed over me without ceasing.  I believe she prayed me up out of the grave.  She said our Mamita appeared to her once, and told her she was my guardian angel; but if it had really been our Mamita, I think she would have told her to tell me you were alive, Mignonne.  When Alfred and I went South, just before we came here, we tried to find Tom and Chloe.  We intend to go to New Bedford soon to see them.  A glimpse of their good-natured black faces would give me more pleasure than all the richly dressed ladies I saw at Mrs. Green’s great party.”

“Very likely you’ll hear Tom preach when you go to New Bedford,” rejoined Flora, “for he is a Methodist minister now; and Chloe, they say, is powerful in prayer at the meetings.  I often smile when I think about the manner of her coming away.  It was so funny that my quiet, refined Mamita Lila should all at once become a kidnapper.  But here is Rosen Blumen.  Well, what now, Mignonne?”

“Papa says Lila is very sleepy, and we ought to be going home,” replied the young damsel.

“Then we will kiss good night, sistita mia?” said Mrs. Blumenthal; “and you will bring Eulalia to us to-morrow.”