While she sat thus the door-bell rang, and she soon became conscious of steps approaching the parlor.  Her heart gave a sudden leap; for her first thought was of Gerald Fitzgerald.  She raised her head, wiped away her tears, and rose to receive the visitor.  Three strangers entered.  She bowed to them, and they, with a little look of surprise, bowed to her.  “What do you wish for, gentlemen?” she asked.

“We are here concerning the settlement of Mr. Royal’s estate,” replied one of them.  “We have been appointed to take an inventory of the furniture.”

While he spoke, one of his companions was inspecting the piano, to see who was the maker, and another was examining the timepiece.

It was too painful; and Rosa, without trusting herself to speak another word, walked quietly out of the room, the gathering moisture in her eyes making it difficult for her to guide her steps.

“Is that one of the daughters we have heard spoken of?” inquired one of the gentlemen.

“I judge so,” rejoined his companion.  “What a royal beauty she is!  Good for three thousand, I should say.”

“More likely five thousand,” added the third.  “Such a fancy article as that don’t appear in the market once in fifty years.”

“Look here!” said the first speaker.  “Do you see that pretty little creature crossing the garden?  I reckon that’s the other daughter.”

“They’ll bring high prices,” continued the third speaker.  “They’re the best property Royal has left.  We may count them eight or ten thousand, at least.  Some of our rich fanciers would jump at the chance of obtaining one of them for that price.”  As he spoke, he looked significantly at the first speaker, who refrained from expressing any opinion concerning their pecuniary value.

All unconscious of the remarks she had elicited, Rosa retired to her chamber, where she sat at the window plunged in mournful revery.  She was thinking of various articles her mother had painted and embroidered, and how her father had said he could not bear the thought of their being handled by strangers.  Presently Floracita came running in, saying, in a flurried way, “Who are those men down stairs, Rosa?”

“I don’t know who they are,” replied her sister.  “They said they came to take an inventory of the furniture.  I don’t know what right they have to do it.  I wish Madame would come.”

“I will run and call her,” said Floracita.

“No, you had better stay with me,” replied Rosa.  “I was just going to look for you when you came in.”

“I ran into the parlor first, thinking you were there,” rejoined Floracita.  “I saw one of those men turning over Mamita’s embroidered ottoman, and chalking something on it.  How dear papa would have felt if he had seen it!  One of them looked at me in such a strange way!  I don’t know what he meant; but it made me want to run away in a minute.  Hark!  I do believe they have come up stairs, and are in papa’s room.  They won’t come here, will they?”