te sidewalk, in earnest conversation with a young gentleman.
When she returned, she said to her: "You shouldn't rap on the windows
to young gentlemen, my child. It hasn't a good appearance."

"I didn't rap to young gentlemen," replied Flora. "It was only
Florimond. I wanted to tell him not to mention my name. He asked me
about my sister, and I told him she was alive and well, and I couldn't
tell him any more at present. Florimond won't mention anything I
request him not to,--I know he won't."

Mrs. Delano smiled to herself at Flora's quick, off-hand way of doing
things. "But after all," thought she, "it is perhaps better settled
so, than it would have been with more ceremony." Then speaking aloud,
she said, "Your friend has a very blooming name."

"His name was Franz," rejoined Flora; "but Mamita called him
Florimond, because he had such pink cheeks; and he liked Mamita so
much, that he always writes his name Franz Florimond. We always had so
many flowery names mixed up with our _olla-podrida_ talk. _Your_ name
is flowery too. I used to say Mamita would have called you Lady Viola;
but violet colors and lilac colors are cousins, and they both suit
your complexion and your name, Mamita Lila."

After dinner, she began to play and sing with more gayety than she
had manifested for many a day. While her friend played, she practised
several new dances with great spirit; and after she had kissed
good-night, she went twirling through the door, as if music were
handing her out.

Mrs. Delano sat awhile in revery. She was thinking what a splendid
marriage her adopted daughter might make, if it were not for that
stain upon her birth. She was checked by the thought: "How I have
fallen into the world's ways, which seemed to me so mean and heartless
when I was young! Was _I_ happy in the splendid marriage they made for
_me_? From what Flora lets out occasionally, I judge her father felt
painfully the anomalous position of his handsome daughters. Alas! if
I had not been so weak as to give him up, all this miserable
entanglement might have been prevented. So one wrong produces another
wrong; and thus frightfully may we affect the destiny of others, while
blindly following the lead of selfishness. But the past, with all its
weaknesses and sins, has gone beyond recall; and I must try to write a
better record on the present."

As she passed to her sleeping-room, she softly entered the adjoining
chamber, and, shading the lamp with her