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While Rosabella had been passing through these
dark experiences, Flora was becoming more and
more accustomed to her new situation. She strove bravely
to conceal the homesickness which she could not always
conquer; but several times, in the course of their travels,
Mrs. Delano noticed moisture gathering on her long black
eyelashes when she saw the stars and stripes floating
from the mast of a vessel. Once, when a rose was given
her, she wept outright; but she soon wiped her eyes, and
apologized by saying: “I wonder whether a Pensee-Vivace
makes Rosa feel as I do when I see a rose? But what an
ungrateful child I am, when I have such a dear, kind, new
Mamita!” And a loving smile again lighted up her swimming
eyes,—those beautiful April eyes of tears and sunshine,
that made rainbows in the heart.

Mrs. Delano wisely kept her occupied with a succession
of teachers and daily excursions. Having a natural genius
for music and drawing, she made rapid progress in both
during a residence of six months in England, six months
in France, and three months in Switzerland. And as Mr.
and Mrs. Percival were usually with them, she picked up,
in her quick way, a good degree of culture from the daily
tone of conversation. The one drawback to the pleasure of
new acquisitions was that she could not share them with
Rosa.

One day, when she was saying this, Mrs. Delano replied:
“We will go to Italy for a short time, and then

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we will return to live in Boston. I have talked the matter
over a good deal with Mr. Percival, and I think I
should know how to guard against any contingency that
may occur. And as you are so anxious about your sister,
I have been revolving plans for taking you back to the
island, to see whether we can ascertain what is going on in
that mysterious cottage.”

From that time there was a very perceptible increase of
cheerfulness in Flora's spirits. The romance of such an
adventure hit her youthful fancy, while the idea of getting
even a sly peep at Rosa filled her with delight. She imagined
all sorts of plans to accomplish this object, and often
held discussions upon the propriety of admitting Tulee
to their confidence.

Her vivacity redoubled when they entered Italy. She
was herself composed of the same materials of which Italy
was made; and without being aware of the spiritual relationship,
she at once felt at home there. She was charmed
with the gay, impulsive people, the bright costumes, the
impassioned music, and the flowing language. The clear,
intense blue of the noonday sky, and the sun setting in a
glowing sea of amber, reminded her of her Southern home;
and the fragrance of the orange-groves was as incense
waved by the memory of her childhood. The ruins of
Rome interested her less than any other features of the
landscape; for, like Bettini, she never asked who any of
the ancients were, for fear they would tell her. The play
of sunshine on the orange-colored lichens interested her
more than the inscriptions they covered; and while their
guide was telling the story of mouldering arches, she was
looking through them at the clear blue sky and the soft
outline of the hills.

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One morning they rode out early to spend a whole day
at Albano; and every mile of the ride presented her with
some charming novelty. The peasants who went dancing
by in picturesque costumes, and the finely formed women
walking erect with vases of water on their heads, or drawing
an even thread from their distaffs, as they went singing
along, furnished her memory with subjects for many a
picture. Sometimes her exclamations would attract the
attention of a group of dancers, who, pleased with an exuberance
of spirits akin to their own, and not unmindful of
forthcoming coin, would beckon to the driver to stop, while
they repeated their dances for the amusement of the Signorina.
A succession of pleasant novelties awaited her at
Albano. Running about among the ilex-groves in search
of bright mosses, she would come suddenly in front of an
elegant villa, with garlands in stucco, and balconies gracefully
draped with vines. Wandering away from that, she
would utter a little cry of joy at the unexpected sight of
some reclining marble nymph, over which a little fountain
threw a transparent veil of gossamer sparkling with diamonds.
Sometimes she stood listening to the gurgling and
dripping of unseen waters; and sometimes melodies floated
from the distance, which her quick ear caught at once, and
her tuneful voice repeated like a mocking-bird. The childlike
zest with which she entered into everything, and made
herself a part of everything, amused her quiet friend, and
gave her even more pleasure than the beauties of the landscape.

After a picnic repast, they ascended Monte Cavo, and
looked down on the deep basins of the lakes, once blazing
with volcanic fire, now full of water blue as the sky
it reflected; like human souls in which the passions have

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burned out, and left them calm recipients of those divine
truths in which the heavens are mirrored. As Mrs.
Delano pointed out various features in the magnificent
panorama around them, she began to tell Flora of scenes
in the Æneid with which they were intimately connected.
The young girl, who was serious for the moment, dropped
on the grass to listen, with elbows on her friend's lap, and
her upturned face supported by her hands. But the lecture
was too grave for her mercurial spirit; and she soon
sprang up, exclaiming: “O Mamita Lila, all those people
were dead and buried so long ago! I don't believe the
princess that Æneas was fighting about was half as handsome
as that dancing Contadina from Frascati, with a scarlet
bodice and a floating veil fastened among her black
braids with a silver arrow. How her eyes sparkled, and
her cheeks glowed! And the Contadino who was dancing
with her, with those long streamers of red ribbon flying
round his peaked hat, he looked almost as handsome as she
did. How I wish I could see them dance the saltarello
again! O Mamita Lila, as soon as we get back to Rome,
do buy a tambourine.” Inspired by the remembrance, she
straightway began to hum the monotonous tune of that
grasshopper dance, imitating the hopping steps and the
quick jerks of the arms, marking the time with ever-increasing
rapidity on her left hand, as if it were a tambourine.
She was so aglow with the exercise, and so graceful
in her swift motions, that Mrs. Delano watched her with
admiring smiles. But when the extempore entertainment
came to a close, she thought to herself: “It is a hopeless
undertaking to educate her after the New England pattern.
One might as well try to plough with a butterfly, as to
teach her ancient history.”

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When they had wandered about a little while longer,
happy as souls newly arrived in the Elysian Fields, Mrs.
Delano said: “My child, you have already gathered mosses
enough to fill the carriage, and it is time for us to return.
You know twilight passes into darkness very quickly here.”

“Just let me gather this piece of golden lichen,” pleaded
she. “It will look so pretty among the green moss, in the
cross I am going to make you for Christmas.”

When all her multifarious gleanings were gathered up,
they lingered a little to drink in the beauty of the scene before
them. In the distance was the Eternal City, girdled by
hills that stood out with wonderful distinctness in the luminous
atmosphere of that brilliant day, which threw a golden
veil over all its churches, statues, and ruins. Before they had
gone far on their homeward ride, all things passed through
magical changes. The hills were seen in vapory visions,
shifting their hues with opaline glances; and over the green,
billowy surface of the broad Campagna was settling a prismatic
robe of mist, changing from rose to violet. Earth
seemed to be writing, in colored notes, with tenderest modulations,
her farewell hymn to the departing God of Light.
And the visible music soon took voice in the vibration of
vesper-bells, in the midst of which they entered Rome.
Flora, who was sobered by the solemn sounds and the darkening
landscape, scarcely spoke, except to remind Mrs.
Delano of the tambourine as they drove through the
crowded Corso; and when they entered their lodgings in
Via delle Quattro Fontane, she passed to her room without
any of her usual skipping and singing. When they met
again at supper her friend said: “Why so serious? Is my
little one tired?”

“I have been thinking, Mamita, that something is going

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to happen to me,” she replied; “for always when I am very
merry something happens.”

“I should think something would happen very often
then,” rejoined Mrs. Delano with a smile, to which she responded
with her ready little laugh. “Several visitors
called while we were gone,” said Mrs. Delano. “Our rich
Boston friend, Mr. Green, has left his card. He follows us
very diligently.” She looked at Flora as she spoke; but
though the light from a tall lamp fell directly on her face,
she saw no emotion, either of pleasure or embarrassment.

She merely looked up with a smile, as she remarked:
“He always seems to be going round very leisurely in
search of something to entertain him. I wonder whether
he has found it yet.”

Though she was really tired with the exertions of the
day, the sight of the new tambourine, after supper, proved
too tempting; and she was soon practising the saltarello
again, with an agility almost equal to that of the nimble
Contadina from whom she had learned it. She was whirling
round more and more swiftly, as if fatigue were a thing
impossible to her, when Mr. Green was announced; and a
very stylishly dressed gentleman, with glossy shirt-bosom
and diamond studs, entered the room. She had had scarcely
time to seat herself, and her face was still flushed with exercise,
while her dimples were revealed by a sort of shy
smile at the consciousness of having been so nearly caught
in her rompish play by such an exquisite. The glowing
cheek and the dimpling smile were a new revelation to Mr.
Green; for he had never interested her sufficiently to call
out the vivacity which rendered her so charming.

Mrs. Delano noticed his glance of admiration, and the
thought occurred, as it had often done before, what an

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embarrassing dilemma she would be in, if he should propose
marriage to her protegée.

“I called this morning,” said he, “and found you had
gone to Albano. I was tempted to follow, but thought it
likely I should miss you. It is a charming drive.”

“Everything is charming here, I think,” rejoined Flora.

“Ah, it is the first time you have seen Rome,” said he.
“I envy you the freshness of your sensations. This is the
third time I have been here, and of course it palls a little
upon me.”

“Why don't you go to some new place then?” inquired
Flora.

“Where is there any new place?” responded he languidly.
“To be sure, there is Arabia Petræa, but the accommodations
are not good. Besides, Rome has attractions
for me at present; and I really think I meet more acquaintances
here than I should at home. Rome is beginning to
swarm with Americans, especially with Southerners. One
can usually recognize them at a glance by their unmistakable
air of distinction. They are obviously of porcelain
clay, as Willis says.”

“I think our New England Mr. Percival is as polished
a gentleman as any I have seen,” observed Mrs.
Delano.

“He is a gentleman in manners and attainments, I admit,”
replied Mr. Green; “but with his family and education,
what a pity it is he has so disgraced himself.”

“Pray what has he done?” inquired the lady.

“Did n't you know he was an Abolitionist?” rejoined
Mr. Green. “It is a fact that he has actually spoken at
their meetings. I was surprised to see him travelling with
you in England. It must be peculiarly irritating to the

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South to see a man of his position siding with those vulgar
agitators. Really, unless something effectual can be done
to stop that frenzy, I fear Southern gentlemen will be unable
to recover a fugitive slave.”

Flora looked at Mrs. Delano with a furtive, sideway
glance, and a half-smile on her lips. Her impulse was to
jump up, dot one of her quick courtesies, and say: “I am
a fugitive slave. Please, sir, don't give me up to any of
those distinguished gentlemen.”

Mr. Green noticed her glance, and mistook it for distaste
of his theme. “Pardon me, ladies,” said he, “for introducing
a subject tabooed in polite society. I called for a
very different purpose. One novelty remains for me in
Rome. I have never seen the statues of the Vatican by
torchlight. Some Americans are forming a party for that
purpose to-morrow evening, and if you would like to join
them, it will give me great pleasure to be your escort.”

Flora, being appealed to, expressed acquiescence, and
Mrs. Delano replied: “We will accept your invitation with
pleasure. I have a great predilection for sculpture.”

“Finding myself so fortunate in one request encourages
me to make another,” rejoined Mr. Green. “On the evening
following Norma is to be brought out, with a new
prima donna, from whom great things are expected. I
should be much gratified if you would allow me to procure
tickets and attend upon you.”

Flora's face lighted up at once. “I see what my musical
daughter wishes,” said Mrs. Delano. “We will therefore
lay ourselves under obligations to you for two evenings'
entertainment.”

The gentleman, having expressed his thanks, bade them
good evening.

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Flora woke up the next morning full of pleasant anticipations.
When Mrs. Delano looked in upon her, she found
her already dressed, and busy with a sketch of the dancing
couple from Frascati. “I cannot make them so much alive
as I wish,” said she, “because they are not in motion. No
picture can give the gleamings of the arrow or the whirlings
of the veil. I wish we could dress like Italians. How
I should like to wear a scarlet bodice, and a veil fastened
with a silver arrow.”

“If we remained till Carnival, you might have that
pleasure,” replied Mrs. Delano; “for everybody masquerades
as they like at that time. But I imagine you would
hardly fancy my appearance in scarlet jacket, with laced
sleeves, big coral necklace, and long ear-rings, like that old
Contadina we met riding on a donkey.”

Flora laughed. “To think of Mamita Lila in such costume!”
exclaimed she. “The old Contadina would make
a charming picture; but a picture of the Campagna, sleepy
with purple haze, would be more like you.”

“Am I then so sleepy?” inquired her friend.

“O, no, not sleepy. You know I don't mean that. But
so quiet; and always with some sort of violet or lilac cloud
for a dress. But here comes Carlina to call us to breakfast,”
said she, as she laid down her crayon, and drummed
the saltarello on her picture while she paused a moment to
look at it.

As Mrs. Delano wished to write letters, and Flora expected
a teacher in drawing, it was decided that they should
remain at home until the hour arrived for visiting the Vatican.
“We have been about sight-seeing so much,” said
Mrs. Delano, “that I think it will be pleasant to have a
quiet day.” Flora assented; but as Mrs. Delano wrote,

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she could not help smiling at her ideas of quietude. Sometimes
rapid thumps on the tambourine might be heard, indicating
that the saltarello was again in rehearsal. If a
piffero strolled through the street, the monotonous drone of
his bagpipe was reproduced in most comical imitation; and
anon there was a gush of bird-songs, as if a whole aviary
were in the vicinity. Indeed, no half-hour passed without
audible indication that the little recluse was in merry mood.

At the appointed time Mr. Green came to conduct them
to the Vatican. They ascended the wide slopes, and passed
through open courts into long passages lined with statues,
and very dimly lighted with occasional lamps. Here and
there a marble figure was half revealed, and looked so
spectral in the gloaming that they felt as if they were entering
the world of spirits. Several members of the party
preceded them, and all seemed to feel the hushing influence,
for they passed on in silence, and stepped softly as they
entered the great Palace of Art. The torch-bearers were
soon in readiness to illuminate the statues, which they did
by holding a covered light over each, making it stand out
alone in the surrounding darkness, with very striking effects
of light and shadow. Flora, who was crouched on a low
seat by the side of Mrs. Delano, gazed with a reverent,
half-afraid feeling on the thoughtful, majestic looking Minerva
Medica. When the graceful vision of Venus Anadyomene
was revealed, she pressed her friend's hand, and
the pressure was returned. But when the light was held
over a beautiful Cupid, the face looked out from the
gloom with such an earnest, childlike expression, that she
forgot the presence of strangers, and impulsively exclaimed,
“O Mamita, how lovely!”

A gentleman some little distance in front of them turned

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toward them suddenly, at the sound of her voice; and a
movement of the torch-bearer threw the light full upon
him for an instant. Flora hid her face in the lap of Mrs.
Delano, who attributed the quick action to her shame at
having spoken so audibly. But placing her hand caressingly
on her shoulder, she felt that she was trembling violently.
She stooped toward her, and softly inquired, “What
is the matter, dear?”

Flora seized her head with both hands, and, drawing it
closer, whispered: “Take me home, Mamita! Do take me
right home!”

Wondering what sudden caprice had seized the emotional
child, she said, “Why, are you ill, dear?”

Flora whispered close into her ear: “No, Mamita. But
Mr. Fitzgerald is here.”

Mrs. Delano rose very quietly, and, approaching Mr.
Green, said: “My daughter is not well, and we wish to
leave. But I beg you will return as soon as you have
conducted us to the carriage.”

But though he was assured by both the ladies that nothing
alarming was the matter, when they arrived at their
lodgings he descended from the driver's seat to assist them
in alighting. Mrs. Delano, with polite regrets at having
thus disturbed his pleasure, thanked him, and bade him
good evening. She hurried after Flora, whom she found
in her room, weeping bitterly. “Control your feelings, my
child,” said she. “You are perfectly safe here in Italy.”

“But if he saw me, it will make it so very unpleasant
for you, Mamita.”

“He could n't see you; for we were sitting in very deep
shadow,” replied Mrs. Delano. “But even if he had seen
you, I should know how to protect you.”

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