!"

"No, my child," replied Mrs. Delano, "you did right in coming to me.
If you had stayed there, you would have made both her and yourself
miserable, beside doing what was very wrong. I met Mr. Fitzgerald once
on horseback, while I was visiting at Mr. Welby's plantation; but I
never fairly saw him until to-day. He is so very handsome, that, when
I looked at him, I could not but think it rather remarkable he did not
gain a bad power over you by his insinuating flattery, when you were
so very young and inexperienced."

The guileless little damsel looked up with an expression of surprise,
and said: "How _could_ I bear to have him make love to _me_, when he
was Rosa's husband? He is so handsome and fascinating, that, if he had
loved me instead of Rosa, in the beginning, I dare say I should have
been as much in love with him as she was. I did dearly love him while
he was a kind brother; but I couldn't love him _so_. It would have
killed Rosa if I had. Besides, he told falsehoods; and papa taught us
to consider that as the meanest of faults. I have heard him tell Rosa
he never loved anybody but her, when an hour before he had told me he
loved me better than Rosa. What could I do but despise such a man?
Then, when he threatened to sell me, I became dreadfully afraid of
him." She started up, as if struck by a sudden thought, and exclaimed
wildly, "What if he has sold Rosa?"

Her friend brought forward every argument and every promise she could
think of to pacify her; and when she had become quite calm, they sang
a few hymns together, and before retiring to rest knelt down side by
side and prayed for strength and guidance in these new troubles.

Flora remained a long time wakeful, thinking of Rosa deserted and
alone. She had formed many projects concerning what was to be seen
and heard and done in Rome; but she forgot them all. She did not even
think of the much-anticipated opera, until she heard from the street
snatches of Norma, whistled or sung by the dispersing audience. A
tenor voice passed the house singing, _Vieni_ _in Roma_. "Ah," thought
she, "Gerald and I used to sing that duet together. And in those
latter days how languishingly he used to look at me, behind her back,
while he sang passionately, '_Ah, deh cedi, cedi a me_!' And poor
cheated Rosa would say, 'Dear Gerald, how much heart you put into your
voice!' O shame, shame! What _could_ I do but run away? Poor Rosa! How
I wish I could hear her sing 'Casta Diva,