o the
message he left for his father's friend. While he was uttering it, the
conversation he had recently had with Mr. Royal came back to him with
painful distinctness. After parting compliments were exchanged, he
turned to say, "Excuse me, young ladies, if, in memory of our fathers'
friendship, I beg of you to command my services, as if I were a
brother, should it ever be in my power to serve you."

Rosabella thanked him with a slight inclination of her graceful head;
and Floracita, dimpling a quick little courtesy, said sportively, "If
some cruel Blue-Beard should shut us up in his castle, we will send
for you."

"How funny!" exclaimed the volatile child, as the door closed after
him. "He spoke as solemn as a minister; but I suppose that's the way
with Yankees. I think _cher papa_ likes to preach sometimes."

Rosabella, happening to glance at the window, saw that Alfred King
paused in the street and looked back. How their emotions would have
deepened could they have foreseen the future!

CHAPTER III.

A year passed away, and the early Southern spring had again returned
with flowers and fragrance. After a day in music and embroidery, with
sundry games at Battledoor and The Graces with her sister, Floracita
heard the approaching footsteps of her father, and, as usual, bounded
forth to meet him. Any one who had not seen him since he parted from
the son of his early New England friend would have observed that he
looked older and more careworn; but his daughters, accustomed to see
him daily, had not noticed the gradual change.

"You have kept us waiting a little, Papasito," said Rosabella, turning
round on the music-stool, and greeting him with a smile.

"Yes, my darling," rejoined he, placing his hand fondly on her head.
"Getting ready to go to Europe makes a deal of work."

"If we were sons, we could help you," said Rosabella.

"I wish you _were_ sons!" answered he, with serious emphasis and a
deep sigh.

Floracita nestled close to him, and, looking up archly in his face,
said, "And pray what would you do, papa, without your nightingale and
your fairy, as you call us?"

"Sure enough, what _should_ I do, my little flower?" said he, as with
a loving smile he stooped to kiss her.

They led him to the tea-table; and when the repast was ended, they
began to talk over their preparations for leaving home.

"_Cher papa_, how long before we shall go to Paris?" inquired
Floracita.

"In two or three weeks