except the huts of the negroes." She spoke the last
rather in a tone of inquiry; but Flora merely answered that she had
once passed the Welby plantation in a barouche.

As the lady led the way into the parlor, she said, "What is that you
have in your hand, my dear?"

"You used to admire Madame Conquilla's shell-work," replied Flora,"
and I have brought you some of mine, to see whether you think I
succeed tolerably in my imitations." As she spoke, she took out a
small basket and poised it on her finger.

"Why, that is perfectly beautiful!" said Mrs. Delano. "I don't know
how you could contrive to give it such an air of lightness and grace.
I used to think shell-work heavy, and rather vulgar, till I saw those
beautiful productions at Nassau. But you excel your teacher, my dear
Miss Gonsalez. I should think the sea-fairies made this."

Four or five other articles were brought forth from the boxes and
examined with similar commendation. Then they fell into a pleasant
chat about their reminiscences of Nassau; and diverged from that
to speak of the loveliness of their lonely little island, and the
increasing beauty of the season. After a while, Flora looked at her
watch, and said, "I must not stay long, for I didn't tell anybody I
was going away."

Mrs. Delano, who caught a glimpse of the medallion inserted in the
back, said: "That is a peculiar little watch. Have you the hair of
some friend set in it?"

"No," replied Flora. "It is the likeness of my father." She slipped
the slight chain from her neck, and placed the watch in the lady's
hand. Her face flushed as she looked at it, but the habitual paleness
soon returned.

"You were introduced to me as a Spanish young lady," said she, "but
this face is not Spanish. What was your father's name?"

"Mr. Alfred Royal of New Orleans," answered Flora.

"But _your_ name is Gonsalez," said she.

Flora blushed crimson with the consciousness of having betrayed the
incognito assumed at Nassau. "Gonsalez was my mother's name," she
replied, gazing on the floor while she spoke.

Mrs. Delano looked at her for an instant, then, drawing her gently
toward her, she pressed her to her side, and said with a sigh, "Ah,
Flora, I wish you were my daughter."

"O, how I wish I was!" exclaimed the young girl, looking up with a
sudden glow; but a shadow immediately clouded her expressive face,
as she added, "But you wouldn't want me for a daughter, if you knew
everything about me."

The