costume.

But Mrs. Delano remarked: "I should think her style of dress rather
too _prononce_ and theatrical; too suggestive of Fanny Elsler and the
Bolero."

"Doubtless it would be so for you or I," rejoined Mrs. Fitzgerald.
"Mother used to say you had a poet lover, who called you the twilight
cloud, violet dissolving into lilac. And when I was a young lady, some
of my admirers compared me to the new moon, which must, of course,
appear in azure and silver. But I assure you Mrs. King's conspicuous
dress was extremely becoming to her style of face and figure. I wish I
had counted how many gentlemen quoted, 'She walks in beauty like the
night' It became really ridiculous at last. Gerald and I called upon
her this morning, and we found her handsome in the parlor by daylight,
which is a trying test to the forties, you know. We were introduced
to their only daughter, Eulalia,--a very peculiar-looking young miss,
with sky-blue eyes and black eyelashes, like some of the Circassian
beauties I have read off. Gerald thinks her almost as handsome as her
mother. What a fortune that girl will be! But I have promised ever so
many people to tell them about the party; so I must bid you good by."

When the door closed after her, Flora remarked, "I never heard of
anybody but my Mamita who was named Eulalia."

"Eulalia was a Spanish saint," responded Mrs. Delano; "and her name
is so very musical that it would naturally please the ear of La
Senorita."

"My curiosity is considerably excited to see this stylish lady," said
Flora.

"We will wait a little, till the first rush of visitors has somewhat
subsided, and then we will call," rejoined Mrs. Delano.

They called three days after, and were informed that Mr. and Mrs. King
had gone to New Orleans.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Strange contrasts occur in human society, even where there is such
a strong tendency toward equality as there is in New England. A few
hours before Queen Fashion held her splendid court in Beacon Street, a
vessel from New Orleans called "The King Cotton" approached Long Wharf
in Boston. Before she touched the pier, a young man jumped on board
from another vessel close by. He went directly up to the captain, and
said, in a low, hurried tone: "Let nobody land. You have slaves on
board. Mr. Bell is in a carriage on the wharf waiting to speak to
you."

Having delivered this message, he disappeared in the same direction
that he came.

This brief interview was un