dwelling. The
fawn-colored damask curtains had given place to crimson; and in lieu
of the silvery paper, the walls were covered with bird-of-paradise
color, touched with golden gleams. The centre-table was covered with
crimson, embroidered with a gold-colored garland; and the screen
of the gas-light was a gorgeous assemblage of bright flowers. Mrs.
Delano's lovely face was even more placid than it had been in earlier
years; but there was a sunset brightness about it, as of one growing
old in an atmosphere of love. The ash-colored hair, which Flora had
fancied to be violet-tinged, was of a silky whiteness now, and fell in
soft curls about the pale face.

On the day when I again take up the thread of this story, she
was seated in her parlor, in a dress of silvery gray silk, which
contrasted pleasantly with the crimson chair. Under her collar of
Honiton lace was an amethystine ribbon, fastened with a pearl pin. Her
cap of rich white lace, made in the fashion of Mary Queen of Scots,
was very slightly trimmed with ribbon of the same color, and fastened
in front with a small amethyst set with pearls. For fanciful Flora had
said: "Dear Mamita Lila, don't have _every_thing about your dress cold
white or gray. Do let something violet or lilac peep out from the
snow, for the sake of 'auld lang syne.'"

The lady was busy with some crochet-work, when a girl, apparently
about twelve years old, came through the half-opened folding-doors,
and settled on an ottoman at her feet. She had large, luminous dark
eyes, very deeply fringed, and her cheeks were like ripened peaches.
The dark mass of her wavy hair was gathered behind into what was
called a Greek cap, composed of brown network strewn with gold beads.
Here and there very small, thin dark curls strayed from under it, like
the tendrils of a delicate vine; and nestling close to each ear was a
little dark, downy crescent, which papa called her whisker when he was
playfully inclined to excite her juvenile indignation.

"See!" said she. "This pattern comes all in a tangle. I have done the
stitches wrong. Will you please to help me, Mamita Lila?"

Mrs. Delano looked up, smiling as she answered, "Let me see what the
trouble is, Rosy Posy."

Mrs. Blumenthal, who was sitting opposite, noticed with artistic eye
what a charming contrast of beauty there was between that richly
colored young face, with its crown of dark hair, and that pale,
refined, symmetrical face, in its frame of silv