“Flora, you see my dancing days are over,” said the Colonel.

“Never mind, I’ll do your dancing,” she replied.  “Rosen Blumen, play uncle’s favorite waltz.”

She passed her arm round Eulalia, and for a few moments they revolved round the room to the circling music.  She had so long been called the life of the family, that she tried to keep up her claim to the title.  But her present mirthfulness was assumed; and it was contrary to her nature to act a part.  She kissed her hand to her brother-in-law, and smiled as she whirled out of the room; but she ran up stairs and pressed the tears back, as she murmured to herself, “Ah, if I could only be sure Florimond and Alfred would come back, even mutilated as he is!”

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Another year brought with it what was supposed to be peace, and the army was disbanded.  Husband and son returned alive and well, and Flora was her young self again.  In the exuberance of her joy she seemed more juvenile than her girls; jumping from husband to son and from son to husband, kissing them and calling them all manner of pet names; embracing Mrs. Delano at intervals, and exclaiming, “O Mamita, here we are all together again!  I wish my arms were long enough to hug you all at once.”

“I thank God, my child, for your sake and for my own,” replied Mrs. Delano.  She looked at Alfred, as she spoke, and the affectionate glance he returned filled her heart with a deep and quiet joy.  The stern shadow of war vanished from his face in the sunshine of home, and she recognized the same gentle expression that had been photographed on her memory long years ago.

When the family from Beacon Street came, a few minutes later, with welcomes and congratulations, Alfred bestowed a different sort of glance on his cousin Eulalia, and they both blushed; as young people often do, without knowing the reason why.  Rosen Blumen and Lila had been studying with her the language of their father’s country; and when the general fervor had somewhat abated, the girls manifested some disposition to show off the accomplishment.  “Do hear them calling Alfred Mein lieber bruder,” said Flora to her husband, “while Rosa and I are sprinkling them all with pet names in French and Spanish.  What a polyglot family we are! as cher papa used to say.  But, Florimond, did you notice anything peculiar in the meeting between Alfred and Eulalia?”

“I thought I did,” he replied.

“How will Brother King like it?” she asked.  “He thinks very highly of Alfred; but you know he has a theory against the marriage of cousins.”

“So have I,” answered Blumenthal; “but nations and races have been pretty thoroughly mixed up in the ancestry of our children.  What with African and French, Spanish, American, and German, I think the dangers of too close relationship are safely diminished.”

“They are a good-looking set, between you and I,” said Flora; “though they are oddly mixed up.  See Eulalia, with her great blue eyes, and her dark eyebrows and eyelashes.  Rosen Blumen looks just like a handsome Italian girl.  No one would think Lila Blumen was her sister, with her German blue eyes, and that fine frizzle of curly light hair.  Your great-grandmother gave her the flax, and I suppose mine did the frizzling.”