little dreamed of meeting you here. I
have thought of you many times since I parted from you at Madame
Conquilla's store of shell-work. I am delighted to see you again."

"And I am glad to see you again, Mrs. Delano," replied Flora; "and I
am very much pleased that you remember me."

"How could I help remembering you?" asked the lady. "You were a
favorite with me from the first time I saw you, and I should like very
much to renew our acquaintance. Where do you live, my dear?"

Covered with crimson confusion, Flora stammered out: "I don't live
anywhere, I'm only staying here. Perhaps I shall meet you again in the
woods or on the beach. I hope I shall."

"Excuse me," said the lady. "I have no wish to intrude upon your
privacy. But if you would like to call upon me at Mr. Welby's
plantation, where I shall be for three or four weeks, I shall always
be glad to receive you."

"Thank you," replied Flora, still struggling with embarrassment. "I
should like to come very much, but I don't have a great deal of time
for visiting."

"It's not common to have such a pressure of cares and duties at your
age," responded the lady, smiling. "My carriage is waiting on the
beach. Trusting you will find a few minutes to spare for me, I will
not say adieu, but _au revoir_."

As she turned away, she thought to herself: "What a fascinating child!
What a charmingly unsophisticated way she took to tell me she would
rather not have me call on her! I observed there seemed to be some
mystery about her when she was in Nassau. What can it be? Nothing
wrong, I hope."

Floracita descended to the beach and gazed after the carriage as
long as she could see it. Her thoughts were so occupied with this
unexpected interview, that she took no notice of the golden drops
which the declining sun was showering on an endless procession of
pearl-crested waves; nor did she cast one of her customary loving
glances at the western sky, where masses of violet clouds, with edges
of resplendent gold, enclosed lakes of translucent beryl, in which
little rose-colored islands were floating. She retraced her steps to
the woods, almost crying. "How strange my answers must appear to her!"
murmured she. "How I do wish I could go about openly, like other
people! I am so tired of all this concealment!" She neither jumped,
nor danced, nor sung, on her way homeward. She seemed to be revolving
something in her mind very busily.

After tea, as she and Rosa were sitting alon