After tea, as she and Rosa were sitting alone in the twilight, her sister, observing that she was unusually silent, said, “What are you thinking of, Mignonne?”

“I am thinking of the time we passed in Nassau,” replied she, “and of that Yankee lady who seemed to take such a fancy to me when she came to Madame Conquilla’s to look at the shell-work.

“I remember your talking about her,” rejoined Rosa.  “You thought her beautiful.”

“Yes,” said Floracita, “and it was a peculiar sort of beauty.  She wasn’t the least like you or Mamita.  Everything about her was violet.  Her large gray eyes sometimes had a violet light in them.  Her hair was not exactly flaxen, it looked like ashes of violets.  She always wore fragrant violets.  Her ribbons and dresses were of some shade of violet; and her breastpin was an amethyst set with pearls.  Something in her ways, too, made me think of a violet.  I think she knew it, and that was the reason she always wore that color.  How delicate she was!  She must have been very beautiful when she was young.”

“You used to call her the Java sparrow,” said Rosa.

“Yes, she made me think of my little Java sparrow, with pale fawn-colored feathers, and little gleams of violet on the neck,” responded Flora.

“That lady seems to have made a great impression on your imagination,” said Rosa; and Floracita explained that it was because she had never seen anything like her.  She did not mention that she had seen that lady on the island.  The open-hearted child was learning to be reticent.

A few minutes afterward, Rosa exclaimed, “There’s Gerald coming!” Her sister watched her as she ran out to meet him, and sighed, “Poor Rosa!”

CHAPTER VIII.

A week later, when Gerald had gone to Savannah and Rosa was taking her daily siesta, Floracita filled Thistle’s panniers with several little pasteboard boxes, and, without saying anything to Tulee, mounted and rode off in a direction she had never taken, except in the barouche.  She was in search of the Welby plantation.

Mrs. Delano, who was busy with her crochet-needle near the open window, was surprised to see a light little figure seated on a donkey riding up the avenue.  As soon as Floracita dismounted, she recognized her, and descended the steps of the piazza to welcome her.

“So you have found the Welby plantation,” said she.  “I thought you wouldn’t have much difficulty, for there are only two plantations on the island, this and Mr. Fitzgerald’s.  I don’t know that there are any other dwellings except the huts of the negroes.”  She spoke the last rather in a tone of inquiry; but Flora merely answered that she had once passed the Welby plantation in a barouche.

As the lady led the way into the parlor, she said, “What is that you have in your hand, my dear?”

“You used to admire Madame Conquilla’s shell-work,” replied Flora,” and I have brought you some of mine, to see whether you think I succeed tolerably in my imitations.”  As she spoke, she took out a small basket and poised it on her finger.