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ANOTHER year brought with it what was supposed to
be peace, and the army was disbanded. Husband
and son returned alive and well, and Flora was her young
self again. In the exuberance of her joy she seemed more
juvenile than her girls; jumping from husband to son and
from son to husband, kissing them and calling them all
manner of pet names; embracing Mrs. Delano at intervals,
and exclaiming, “O Mamita, here we are all together
again! I wish my arms were long enough to hug you all
at once.”

“I thank God, my child, for your sake and for my own,”
replied Mrs. Delano. She looked at Alfred, as she spoke,
and the affectionate glance he returned filled her heart with
a deep and quiet joy. The stern shadow of war vanished
from his face in the sunshine of home, and she recognized
the same gentle expression that had been photographed on
her memory long years ago.

When the family from Beacon Street came, a few minutes
later, with welcomes and congratulations, Alfred bestowed
a different sort of glance on his cousin Eulalia, and
they both blushed; as young people often do, without
knowing the reason why. Rosen Blumen and Lila had
been studying with her the language of their father's country;
and when the general fervor had somewhat abated, the
girls manifested some disposition to show off the accomplishment.
“Do hear them calling Alfred Mein lieber
bruder,” said Flora to her husband, “while Rosa and I

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are sprinkling them all with pet names in French and
Spanish. What a polyglot family we are! as cher papa
used to say. But, Florimond, did you notice anything peculiar
in the meeting between Alfred and Eulalia?”

“I thought I did,” he replied.

“How will Brother King like it?” she asked. “He
thinks very highly of Alfred; but you know he has a theory
against the marriage of cousins.”

“So have I,” answered Blumenthal; “but nations and
races have been pretty thoroughly mixed up in the ancestry
of our children. What with African and French, Spanish,
American, and German, I think the dangers of too close
relationship are safely diminished.”

“They are a good-looking set, between you and I,” said
Flora; “though they are oddly mixed up. See Eulalia,
with her great blue eyes, and her dark eyebrows and eyelashes.
Rosen Blumen looks just like a handsome Italian
girl. No one would think Lila Blumen was her sister,
with her German blue eyes, and that fine frizzle of curly
light hair. Your great-grandmother gave her the flax, and
I suppose mine did the frizzling.”

This side conversation was interrupted by Mr. King's
saying: “Blumenthal, you haven't asked for news concerning
Mrs. Fitzgerald. You know Mr. Green has been a
widower for some time. Report says that he finds in her
company great consolation for the death of her cousin.”

“That's what I call a capital arrangement,” said Flora;
“and I didn't mean any joke about their money, either.
Won't they sympathize grandly? Won't she be in her
element? Top notch. No end to balls and parties; and
a coat of arms on the coach.”

“The news made me very glad,” observed Rosa; “for

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the thought of her loneliness always cast a shadow over my
happiness.”

“Even they have grown a little during the war,” rejoined
Mr. King. “Nabob Green, as they call him, did actually
contribute money for the raising of colored regiments. He
so far abated his prejudice as to be willing that negroes
should have the honor of being shot in his stead; and Mrs.
Fitzgerald agreed with him. That was a considerable advance,
you must admit.”

They went on for some time talking over news, public
and private; not omitting the prospects of Tom's children,
and the progress of Tulee's. But such family chats are
like the showers of manna, delicious as they fall, but incapable
of preservation.

The first evening the families met at the house in Beacon
Street, Mr. Blumenthal expressed a wish to see Henriet,
and she was summoned. The improvement in her
appearance impressed him greatly. Having lived three
years with kindly and judicious friends, who never reminded
her, directly or indirectly, that she was a black
sheep in the social flock, her faculties had developed freely
and naturally; and belonging to an imitative race, she
readily adopted the language and manners of those around
her. Her features were not handsome, with the exception
of her dark, liquid-looking eyes; and her black hair was
too crisp to make a soft shading for her brown forehead.
But there was a winning expression of gentleness in her
countenance, and a pleasing degree of modest ease in her
demeanor. A map, which she had copied very neatly,
was exhibited, and a manuscript book of poems, of her own
selection, written very correctly, in a fine flowing hand.

“Really, this is encouraging,” said Mr. Blumenthal, as

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she left the room. “If half a century of just treatment
and free schools can bring them all up to this level, our
battles will not be in vain, and we shall deserve to rank
among the best benefactors of the country; to say nothing
of a corresponding improvement in the white population.”

“Thitherward is Providence leading us,” replied Mr.
King. “Not unto us, but unto God, be all the glory.
We were all of us working for better than we knew.”

Mr. King had written to George Falkner, to inform him
of a situation he had in store for him at Marseilles, and to
request a previous meeting in New York, as soon as he
could obtain his discharge from the army; being in this, as
in all other arrangements, delicately careful to avoid giving
annoyance to Mrs. Fitzgerald. In talking this over with
his wife, he said: “I consider it a duty to go to Marseilles
with him. It will give us a chance to become acquainted
with each other; it will shield him from possible impertinences
on the passage, on Henriet's account; and it will be
an advantage to him to be introduced as my friend to the
American Consul, and some commercial gentlemen of my
acquaintance.”

“I am to go with you, am I not?” asked Rosa. “I am
curious to see this young man, from whom I parted, so
unconscious of all the strange future, when he was a baby
in Tulee's arms.”

“I think you had better not go, dear,” he replied;
“though the loss of your company will deprive me of a
great pleasure. Eulalia would naturally wish to go with
us; and as she knows nothing of George's private history,
it would be unwise to excite her curiosity by introducing
her to such a striking likeness of Gerald. But she might

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stay with Rosen Blumen while you go to New York and
remain with me till the vessel sails. If I meet with no accidents,
I shall return in three months; for I go merely to
give George a fair start, though, when there, I shall have
an eye to some other business, and take a run to Italy to
look in upon our good old friends, Madame and the Signor.”

The journey to New York was made at the appointed
time, in company with Henriet and her little one. George
had risen to the rank of lieutenant in the army, and had
acquired a military bearing that considerably increased the
manliness of his appearance. He was browned by exposure
to sun and wind; but he so strongly resembled her
handsome Gerald, that Rosa longed to clasp him to her
heart. His wife's appearance evidently took him by surprise.
“How you have changed!” he exclaimed. “What
a lady you are! I can hardly believe this is the little Hen
I used to make mud pies with.”

She laughed as she answered: “You are changed, too.
If I have improved, it is owing to these kind friends.
Only think of it, George, though Mrs. King is such a handsome
and grand lady, she always called me Mrs. Falkner.”

Mrs. King made several appropriate parting presents
to Henriet and little Hetty. To George she gave a gold
watch, and a very beautiful colored photograph of Gerald,
in a morocco case, as a souvenir of their brief friendship in
the army.

Mr. King availed himself of every hour of the voyage
to gain the confidence of the young man, and to instil some
salutary lessons into his very receptive mind. After they
had become well acquainted, he said: “I have made an
estimate of what I think it will be necessary for you to

[figure description] Page 436.[end figure description]

spend for rent, food, and clothing; also of what I think it
would be wise for you to spend in improving your education,
and for occasional amusements. I have not done this
in the spirit of dictation, my young friend, but merely with
the wise of helping you by my greater experience of life.
It is important that you should learn to write a good commercial
hand, and also acquire, as soon as possible, a very
thorough knowledge of the French language. For these
you should employ the best teachers that can be found.
Your wife can help you in many ways. She has learned
to spell correctly, to read with fluency and expression, and
to play quite well on the piano. You will find it very
profitable to read good books aloud to each other. I advise
you not to go to places of amusement oftener than once
a fortnight, and always to choose such places as will be
suitable and pleasant for your wife. I like that young men
in my employ should never taste intoxicating drinks, or use
tobacco in any form. Both those habits are expensive,
and I have long ago abjured them as injurious to health.”

The young man bowed, and replied, “I will do as you
wish in all respects, sir; I should be very ungrateful if I
did not.”

“I shall give you eight hundred dollars for the first
year,” resumed Mr. King; “and shall increase your salary
year by year, according to your conduct and capabilities.
If you are industrious, temperate, and economical, there is
no reason why you should not become a rich man in time;
and it will be wise for you to educate yourself, your wife,
and your children, with a view to the station you will have
it in your power to acquire. If you do your best, you may
rely upon my influence and my fatherly interest to help
you all I can.”

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The young man colored, and, after a little embarrassed
hesitation, said: “You spoke of a fatherly interest, sir;
and that reminds me that I never had a father. May I
ask whether you know anything about my parents?”

Mr. King had anticipated the possibility of such a question,
and he replied: “I will tell you who your father was,
if you will give a solemn promise never to ask a single
question about your mother. On that subject I have given
a pledge of secrecy which it would be dishonorable for me
to break. Only this much I will say, that neither of your
parents was related to me in any degree, or connected
with me in any way.”

The young man answered, that he was of course very
desirous to know his whole history, but would be glad to
obtain any information, and was willing to give the required
promise, which he would most religiously keep.

Mr. King then went on to say: “Your father was Mr.
Gerald Fitzgerald, a planter in Georgia. You have a
rïght to his name, and I will so introduce you to my friends,
if you wish it. He inherited a handsome fortune, but lost
it all by gambling and other forms of dissipation. He had
several children by various mothers. You and the Gerald
with whom you became acquainted were brothers by the
father's side. You are unmixed white; but you were left
in the care of a negro nurse, and one of your father's
creditors seized you both, and sold you into slavery. Until
a few months before you were acquainted with Gerald,
it was supposed that you died in infancy; and for that
reason no efforts were made to redeem you. Circumstances
which I am not at liberty to explain led to the discovery
that you were living, and that Gerald had learned
your history as a slave. I feel the strongest sympathy

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with your misfortunes, and cherish a lively gratitude for
your kindness to my young friend Gerald. All that I have
told you is truth; and if it were in my power, I would
most gladly tell you the whole truth.”

The young man listened with the deepest interest; and,
having expressed his thanks, said he should prefer to be
called by his father's name; for he thought he should feel
more like a man to bear a name to which he knew that he
had a right.

When Mr. King again returned to his Boston home, as
soon as the first eager salutations were over, he exclaimed:
“How the room is decorated with vines and flowers! It
reminds me of that dear floral parlor in New Orleans.”

Did n't you telegraph that you were coming? And is
it not your birthday?” inquired his wife.

He kissed her, and said: “Well, Rosabella, I think you
may now have a tranquil mind; for I believe things have
been so arranged that no one is very seriously injured by
that act of frenzy which has caused you so much suffering.
George will not be deprived of any of his pecuniary
rights; and he is in a fair way to become more of a man
than he would have been if he had been brought up in
luxury. He and Henriet are as happy in their prospects
as two mortals well can be. Gerald enjoyed his short life;
and was more bewildered than troubled by the discovery
that he had two mothers. 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.”

[figure description] Page 439.[end figure description]

“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

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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 other things,” replied Mrs. Delano.

“I think the fairies help her now,” said Mr. Blumenthal;
“and well they may, for she is of their kith and kin.”

This playful trifling was interrupted by the sound of the
folding-doors rolling apart; and in the brilliantly lighted
adjoining room a tableau became visible, in honor of the
birthday. Under festoons of the American flag, surmounted
by the eagle, stood Eulalia, in ribbons of red, white, and
blue, with a circle of stars round her head. One hand upheld
the shield of the Union, and in the other the scales
of Justice were evenly poised. By her side stood Rosen
Blumen, holding in one hand a gilded pole surmounted by
a liberty-cap, while her other hand rested protectingly on
the head of Tulee's Benny, who was kneeling and looking
upward in thanksgiving.

Scarcely had the vision appeared before Joe Bright's
voice was heard leading invisible singers through the tune
“Hail to the Chief,” which Alfred Blumenthal accompanied
with a piano. As they sang the last line the striped
festoons fell and veiled the tableau. Then Mr. Bright,
who had returned a captain, appeared with his company,
consisting of Tom and Chloe with their children, and
Tulee with her children, singing a parody composed by
himself, of which the chorus was:—

[figure description] Page 441.[end figure description]

To increase the effect, the director of ceremonies had
added a flourish of trumpets behind the scenes.

Then the colored band came forward, hand in hand, and
sang together, with a will, Whittier's immortal “Boat
Song”:—

All the family, of all ages and colors, then joined in
singing “The Star-spangled Banner”; and when Mr.
King had shaken hands with them all, they adjourned to the
breakfast-room, where refreshments were plentifully provided.

At last Mr. Bright said: “I don't want to bid you good
night, friends; but I must. I don't generally like to go
among Boston folks. Just look at the trees on the Common.
They're dying because they've rolled the surface
of the ground so smooth. That's just the way in Boston,
I reckon. They take so much pains to make the surface
smooth, that it kills the roots o' things. But when I come
here, or go to Mrs. Blumenthal's, I feel as if the roots o'
things wa'n't killed. Good night, friends. I have n't enjoyed
myself so well since I found Old Hundred and
Yankee Doodle in the Harmolinks.”

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The sound of his whistling died away in the streets; the
young people went off to talk over the festival; the
colored troop retired to rest; and the elders of the two
families sat together in the stillness, holding sweet converse
concerning the many strange experiences that had been so
richly crowned with blessings.

A new surprise awaited them, prepared by the good
taste of Mr. Blumenthal. A German Liederkrantz in the
hall closed the ceremonies of the night with Mendelssohn's
“Song of Praise.”

THE END

Cambridge: Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.