From the first moment that Clarence Delwood had set his eye upon the Sea-flower, an interest which he had never known before had been awakened within him.  It may be said that it was a weakness, that he had always looked upon women as mere butterflies, but owing to early circumstances, he having been bereft of his mother in infancy, never having known the blessings of a sister’s society, he was not to be condemned for the impressions which a gaudily attired attendant had left upon his mind as he grew up into boyhood.  But as he listened to the Sea-flower, as she told him of her home in the sea, of the music of the glorious billows, companions of her childhood, filling the very soul with nature’s beauty and sublimity, he looked upon her, as if fearful she might prove an “Undine,” and he would not have been taken by surprise had her spiritual face faded calmly from beneath his gaze, to join her sister nymphs of ocean.

“And you will soon return to your island home?” he asked, as a thought of the warmth with which she had expressed herself to a stranger, bade her pause in her enthusiasm with downcast eye.

“Yes, I shall soon return,” she answered joyously, “and yet I shall remember Boston with feelings of pleasure, for I have spent happy hours here.”

As she said this, their eyes involuntarily met; a silent spectator would have noted the contrast of the moistened blue, to the deep black of sterner make, but as it was, that contrast was not discovered, each felt that the other was reading the thought, which had but then sprung up within the soul.  Natalie withdrew her gaze, while Delwood, stooping to pluck a moss rose-bud from an urn at her feet, placed it within his diamond fastener, and the two retraced their steps to join their friends again.  Montague was still at Winnie’s side, and though the unusual flush upon Natalie’s cheek was a sad tell-tale of the state of affairs, yet she observed Winnie as she listened with a ready ear to Montague’s remarks, and an unpleasant feeling rose in her heart; she could not bear to have her dear friend on such intimate terms with him, whom, as by a natural instinct she shunned.

All things must have an end; and the cheerful lights, which houseless ones had watched as the bright beams fell across the pave, one by one had faded.  Formal adieus had been said, kind wishes interchanged, and the last sound of rumbling wheels had died away.  Excess of excitement bade the blooming Winnie seek repose, and quiet reigned triumphant at Santon Mansion; yet there was one who seemed to have forgotten that the morning follows so close upon the evening.  The Sea-flower had lingered among the last to say adieu, and now, in her own apartment, she had sunk into a chair, the delicate pearls still encircling her sunny tresses, vieing in purity with her fair complexion; her eyes were fixed on vacancy, and she was not aware that the morning was peeping in upon her, till started from her reveries by her own gentle sighs.