Mr. Fitzgerald assiduously placed the music-stool, and bent over the portfolio while Miss Royal searched for the music.  A servant lighted the candelabra and drew the curtains.  Alfred, glancing at Mr. Royal, saw he was watching the pair who were busy at the portfolio, and that the expression of his countenance was troubled.  His eyes, however, soon had pleasanter occupation; for as soon as Rosa touched the piano, Floracita began to float round the room in a succession of graceful whirls, as if the music had taken her up and was waltzing her along.  As she passed the marble Dancing Girl, she seized the wreath that was thrown over its arm, and as she went circling round, it seemed as if the tune had become a visible spirit, and that the garland was a floating accompaniment to its graceful motions.  Sometimes it was held aloft by the right hand, sometimes by the left; sometimes it was a whirling semicircle behind her; and sometimes it rested on her shoulders, mingling its white orange buds and blossoms with her shower of black curls and crimson fuchsias.  Now it was twined round her head in a flowery crown, and then it gracefully unwound itself, as if it were a thing alive.  Ever and anon the little dancer poised herself for an instant on the point of one fairy foot, her cheeks glowing with exercise and dimpling with smiles, as she met her father’s delighted gaze.  Every attitude seemed spontaneous in its prettiness, as if the music had made it without her choice.  At last she danced toward her father, and sank, with a wave-like motion, on the ottoman at his feet.  He patted the glossy head that nestled lovingly on his knee, and drawing a long breath, as if oppressed with happiness, he murmured, “Ah, Mignonne!”

The floating fairy vision had given such exquisite pleasure, that all had been absorbed in watching its variations.  Now they looked at each other and smiled.  “You would make Taglioni jealous,” said Mr. Fitzgerald, addressing the little dancer; and Mr. King silently thanked her with a very expressive glance.

As Rosabella retired from the piano, she busied herself with rearranging a bouquet she had taken from one of the vases.  When Mr. Fitzgerald stationed himself at her side, she lowered her eyes with a perceptibly deepening color.  On her peculiar complexion a blush showed like a roseate cloud in a golden atmosphere.  As Alfred gazed on the long, dark, silky fringes resting on those warmly tinted cheeks, he thought he had never seen any human creature so superbly handsome.

“Nothing but music can satisfy us after such dancing,” said Mr. Fitzgerald.  She looked up to him with a smile; and Alfred thought the rising of those dark eyelashes surpassed their downcast expression, as the glory of morning sunshine excels the veiled beauty of starlight.

“Shall I accompany you while you sing, ’How brightly breaks the morning’?” asked she.

“That always sings itself into my heart, whenever you raise your eyes to mine,” replied he, in a low tone, as he handed her to the piano.