welled finger, as she
replied: "O, you mischievous little kitten! I thought you were really
going to tell me something about your troubles. But I see you are
hoaxing me. I remember when you were at Madame Conquilla's you always
seemed to be full of fun, and the young ladies there said you were a
great rogue."

"But this is not fun; indeed it is not," rejoined Flora. "I _am_ a
colored girl."

She spoke so earnestly that the lady began to doubt the evidence of
her own eyes. "But you told me that Mr. Alfred Royal was your father,"
said she.

"So he was my father," replied Flora; "and the kindest father that
ever was. Rosa and I were brought up like little princesses, and we
never knew that we were colored. My mother was the daughter of a rich
Spanish gentleman named Gonsalez. She was educated in Paris, and was
elegant and accomplished. She was handsomer than Rosa; and if you were
to see Rosa, you would say nobody _could_ be handsomer than she is.
She was good, too. My father was always saying she was the dearest and
best wife in the world. You don't know how he mourned when she died.
He couldn't bear to have anything moved that she had touched. But
_cher papa_ died very suddenly; and first they told us that we were
very poor, and must earn our living; and then they told us that our
mother was a slave, and so, according to law, we were slaves too. They
would have sold us at auction, if a gentleman who knew us when papa
was alive hadn't smuggled us away privately to Nassau. He had been
very much in love with Rosa for a good while; and he married her, and
I live with them. But he keeps us very much hidden; because, he says,
he should get into lawsuits and duels and all sorts of troubles with
papa's creditors if they should find out that he helped us off. And
that was the reason I was called Senorita Gonsalez in Nassau, though
my real name is Flora Royal."

She went on to recount the kindness of Madame Guirlande, and the
exciting particulars of their escape; to all of which Mrs. Delano
listened with absorbed attention. As they sat thus, they made a
beautiful picture. The lady, mature in years, but scarcely showing the
touch of time, was almost as fair as an Albiness, with serene lips,
and a soft moonlight expression in her eyes. Every attitude and every
motion indicated quietude and refinement. The young girl, on the
contrary, even when reclining, seemed like impetuosity in repose for
a moment, but just ready to spring.