rs. Eulalia was a tender, romantic memory to him;
and such, I think, he has become to our child. I don't believe Mrs.
Fitzgerald suffered much more than annoyance. Gerald was always the
same to her as a son; and if he had been really so, he would probably
have gone to the war, and have run the same chance of being killed."

"Ah, Alfred," she replied, "I should never have found my way out of
that wretched entanglement if it had not been for you. You have really
acted toward me the part of Divine Providence. It makes me ashamed
that I have not been able to do anything in atonement for my own
fault, except the pain I suffered in giving up my Gerald to his
Lily-mother. When I think how that poor babe became enslaved by
my act, I long to sell my diamonds, and use the money to build
school-houses for the freedmen."

"Those diamonds seem to trouble you, dearest," rejoined he, smiling.
"I have no objection to your selling them. You become them, and they
become you; but I think school-houses will shine as brighter jewels in
the better world."

Here Flora came in with all her tribe; and when the welcomes were
over, her first inquiries were for Madame and the Signor.

"They are well," replied Mr. King, "and they seem to be as contented
as tabbies on a Wilton rug. They show signs of age, of course. The
Signor has done being peppery, and Madame's energy has visibly abated;
but her mind is as lively as ever. I wish I could remember half the
stories she repeated about the merry pranks of your childhood. She
asked a great many questions about _Jolie Manon_; and she laughed till
she cried while she described, in dramatic style, how you crazed the
poor bird with imitations, till she called you _Joli petit diable_"

"How I wish I had known mamma then! How funny she must have been!"
exclaimed Lila.

"I think you have heard some performances of hers that were equally
funny," rejoined Mrs. Delano. "I used to be entertained with a variety
of them; especially when we were in Italy. If any of the _pifferari_
went by, she would imitate the drone of their bagpipes in a manner
irresistibly comic. And if she saw a peasant-girl dancing, she
forthwith went through the performance to the life."

"Yes, Mamita," responded Flora; "and you know I fancied myself a great
musical composer in those days,--a sort of feminine Mozart; but the
_qui vive_ was always the key I composed in."

"I used to think the fairies helped you about that, as well as ot