“O, thank you! thank you!” exclaimed Flora, seizing her hand and kissing it fervently.

“But tell me one thing, my little friend,” continued Mrs. Delano.  “Is there anything I can do for you now?”

“I came to ask you to do something for me,” replied Flora; “but you have been so kind to me, that it has made me almost forget my errand.  I have very particular reasons for wanting to earn some money.  You used to admire the shell-work in Nassau so much, that I thought, if you liked mine, you might be willing to buy it, and that perhaps you might have friends who would buy some.  I have tried every way to think how I could manage, to sell my work.”

“I will gladly buy all you have,” rejoined the lady, “and I should like to have you make me some more; especially of these garlands of rice-shells, trembling so lightly on almost invisible silver wire.”

“I will make some immediately,” replied Flora.  “But I must go, dear Mrs. Delano.  I wish I could stay longer, but I cannot.”

“When will you come again?” asked the lady.

“I can’t tell,” responded Flora, “for I have to manage to come here.”

“That seems strange,” said Mrs. Delano.

“I know it seems strange,” answered the young girl, with a kind of despairing impatience in her tone.  “But please don’t ask me, for everything seems to come right out to you; and I don’t know what I ought to say, indeed I don’t.”

“I want you to come again as soon as you can,” said Mrs. Delano, slipping a gold eagle into her hand.  “And now go, my dear, before you tell me more than you wish to.”

“Not more than I wish,” rejoined Floracita; “but more than I ought.  I wish to tell you everything.”

In a childish way she put up her lips for a kiss, and the lady drew her to her heart and caressed her tenderly.

When Flora had descended the steps of the piazza, she turned and looked up.  Mrs. Delano was leaning against one of the pillars, watching her departure.  Vines of gossamer lightness were waving round her, and her pearly complexion and violet-tinted dress looked lovely among those aerial arabesques of delicate green.  The picture impressed Flora all the more because it was such a contrast to the warm and gorgeous styles of beauty to which she had been accustomed.  She smiled and kissed her hand in token of farewell; the lady returned the salutation, but she thought the expression of her face was sad, and the fear that this new friend distrusted her on account of unexplained mysteries haunted her on her way homeward.

Mrs. Delano looked after her till she and her donkey disappeared among the trees in the distance.  “What a strange mystery is this!” murmured she.  “Alfred Royal’s child, and yet she bears her mother’s name.  And why does she conceal from me where she lives?  Surely, she cannot be consciously doing anything wrong, for I never saw such perfect artlessness of look and manner.”  The problem occupied her thoughts for days after, without her arriving at any satisfactory conjecture.