When she had been there a few months Mr. King enclosed to Mrs. Fitzgerald the letters Gerald had written about George; and a few days afterward he called to explain fully what he had done, and what he intended to do.  That lady’s dislike for her rival was much diminished since there was no Gerald to excite her jealousy of divided affection.  There was some perturbation in her manner, but she received her visitor with great politeness; and when he had finished his statement she said:  “I have great respect for your motives and your conduct; and I am satisfied to leave everything to your good judgment and kind feelings.  I have but one request to make.  It is that this young man may never know he is my son.”

“Your wishes shall be respected,” replied Mr. King.  “But he so strongly resembles Gerald, that, if you should ever visit Europe again, you might perhaps like to see him, if you only recognized him as a relative of your husband.”

The lady’s face flushed as she answered promptly:  “No, sir.  I shall never recognize any person as a relative who has a colored wife.  Much as I loved Gerald, I would never have seen him again if he had formed such an alliance; not even if his wife were the most beautiful and accomplished creature that ever walked the earth.”

“You are treading rather closely upon me, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” rejoined Mr. King, smiling.

The lady seemed embarrassed, and said she had forgotten Mrs. King’s origin.

“Your son’s wife is not so far removed from a colored ancestry as mine is,” rejoined Mr. King; “but I think you would soon forget her origin, also, if you were in a country where others did not think of it.  I believe our American prejudice against color is one of what Carlyle calls ‘the phantom dynasties.’”

“It may be so,” she replied coldly; “but I do not wish to be convinced of it.”

And Mr. King bowed good morning.

A week or two after this interview, Mrs. Fitzgerald called upon Mrs. King; for, after all, she felt a certain sort of attraction in the secret history that existed between them; and she was unwilling to have the world suppose her acquaintance had been dropped by so distinguished a lady.  By inadvertence of the servant at the door, she was shown into the parlor while Henriet was there, with her child on the floor, receiving directions concerning some muslin flounces she was embroidering.  Upon the entrance of a visitor, she turned to take up her infant and depart.  But Mrs. King said, “Leave little Hetty here, Mrs. Falkner, till you bring my basket for me to select the floss you need.”

Hetty, being thus left alone, scrambled up, and toddled toward Mrs. King, as if accustomed to an affectionate reception.  The black curls that clustered round her yellow face shook, as her uncertain steps hastened to a place of refuge; and when she leaned against her friend’s lap, a pretty smile quivered on her coral lips, and lighted up her large dark eyes.