Though Flora had been so wakeful the preceding night, she tapped at
Mrs. Delano's door very early the next morning. "Excuse me for coming
before you were dressed," said she; "but I wanted to ask you how long
you think it will be before Mr. Percival can find out whether Mr.
Fitzgerald has brought Rosa with him."
"Probably not before noon," replied Mrs. Delano, drawing the anxious
little face toward her, and imprinting on it her morning kiss. "Last
evening I wrote a note to Mr. Green, requesting him to dispose of the
opera tickets to other friends. Mr. Fitzgerald is so musical, he will
of course be there; and whether your sister is with him or not, you
will be in too nervous a state to go to any public place. You had
better stay in your room, and busy yourself with books and drawings,
till we can ascertain the state of things. I will sit with you as
much as I can; and when I am absent you must try to be a good, quiet
child."
"I will try to be good, because I don't want to trouble you, Mamita
Lila; but you know I can't be quiet in my mind. I did long for the
opera; but unless Mr. Fitzgerald brought Rosa with him, and I could
see her before I went, it would almost kill me to hear Norma; for
every part of it is associated with her."
After breakfast, Mrs. Delano sat some time in Flora's room, inspecting
her recent drawings, and advising her to work upon them during the
day, as the best method of restraining restlessness. While they were
thus occupied, Carlina brought in a beautiful bouquet for Miss Delano,
accompanied with a note for the elder lady, expressing Mr. Green's
great regret at being deprived of the pleasure of their company for
the evening.
"I am sorry I missed seeing him," thought Mrs. Delano; "for he is
always so intimate with Southerners, I dare say he would know all
about Mr. Fitzgerald; though I should have been at a loss how to
introduce the inquiry."
Not long afterward Mr. Percival called, and had what seemed to Flora
a very long private conference with Mrs. Delano. The information he
brought was, that the lady with Mr. Fitzgerald was a small, slight
figure, with yellowish hair and very delicate complexion.
"That is in all respects the very opposite of Flora's description of
her sister," rejoined Mrs. Delano.
Their brief conversation on the subject was concluded by a request
that Mr. Percival would inquire at Civita Vecchia for the earliest
vessels bound either to France or England.
Mrs. Delano could not at once summon sufficient resolution to recount
all the particulars to Flora; to whom she merely said that she
considered it certain that her sister was not with Mr. Fitzgerald.
"Then why can't I go right off to the United States to-day?" exclaimed
the impetuous little damsel.
"Would you then leave Mamita Lila so suddenly?" inquired her friend;
whereupon the emotional child began to weep and protest. This little
scene was interrupted by Carlina with two visiting-cards on a silver
salver. Mrs. Delano's face flushed unusually as she glanced at them.
She immediately rose to go, saying to Flora: "I must see these people;
but I will come back to you as soon as I can. Don't leave your room,
my dear."
In the parlor, she found a gentleman and lady, both handsome, but
as different from each other as night and morning. The lady stepped
forward and said: "I think you will recollect me; for we lived in the
same street in Boston, and you and my mother used to visit together."
"Miss Lily Bell," rejoined Mrs. Delano, offering her hand. "I had not
heard you were on this side the Atlantic."
"Not Miss Bell now, but Mrs. Fitzgerald," replied the fair little
lady. "Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Fitzgerald."
Mrs. Delano bowed, rather coldly; and her visitor continued: "I was so
sorry I didn't know you were with the Vatican party last night. Mr.
Green told us of it this morning, and said you were obliged to leave
early, on account of the indisposition of Miss Delano. I hope she has
recovered, for Mr. Green has told me so much about her that I am dying
with curiosity to see her."
"She is better, I thank you, but not well enough to see company,"
replied Mrs. Delano.
"What a pity she will be obliged to relinquish the opera to-night!"
observed Mr. Fitzgerald. "I hear she is very musical; and they tell
wonderful stories about this new _prima donna_. They say she has two
more notes in the altissimo scale than any singer who has been heard
here, and that her sostenuto is absolutely marvellous."
Mrs. Delano replied politely, expressing regret that she and her
daughter were deprived of the pleasure of hearing such a musical
genius. After some desultory chat concerning the various sights in
Rome, the visitors departed.
"I'm glad your call was short," said Mr. Fitzgerald. "That lady is a
perfect specimen of Boston ice."
Whereupon his companion began to rally him for want of gallantry in
saying anything disparaging of Boston.
Meanwhile Mrs. Delano was pacing the parlor in a disturbed state
of mind. Though she had foreseen such a contingency as one of the
possible consequences of adopting Flora, yet when it came so suddenly
in a different place, and under different circumstances from any she
had thought of, the effect was somewhat bewildering. She dreaded the
agitation into which the news would throw Flora, and she wanted to
mature her own future plans before she made the announcement. So, in
answer to Flora's questions about the visitors, she merely said a lady
from Boston, the daughter of one of her old acquaintances, had called
to introduce her husband. After dinner, they spent some time reading
Tasso's Aminta together; and then Mrs. Delano said: "I wish to go and
have a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Percival. I have asked him to inquire
about vessels at Civita Vecchia; for, under present circumstances, I
presume you would be glad to set out sooner than we intended on that
romantic expedition in search of your sister."
"O, thank you! thank you!" exclaimed Flora, jumping up and kissing
her.
"I trust you will not go out, or sing, or show yourself at the windows
while I am gone," said Mrs. Delano; "for though Mr. Fitzgerald can do
you no possible harm, it would be more agreeable to slip away without
his seeing you."
The promise was readily and earnestly given, and she proceeded to the
lodgings of Mr. and Mrs. Percival in the next street. After she had
related the experiences of the morning, she asked what they supposed
had become of Rosabella.
"It is to be hoped she does not continue her relation with that base
man if she knows of his marriage," said Mrs. Percival; "for that would
involve a moral degradation painful for you to think of in Flora's
sister."
"If she has ceased to interest his fancy, very likely he may have sold
her," said Mr. Percival; "for a man who could entertain the idea of
selling Flora, I think would sell his own Northern wife, if the law
permitted it and circumstances tempted him to it."
"What do you think I ought to do in the premises?" inquired Mrs.
Delano.
"I would hardly presume to say what you ought to do," rejoined Mrs.
Percival; "but I know what I should do, if I were as rich as you, and
as strongly attached to Flora."
"Let me hear what you would do," said Mrs. Delano.
The prompt reply was: "I would go in search of her. And if she was
sold, I would buy her and bring her home, and be a mother to her."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Delano, warmly pressing her hand. "I thought
you would advise what was kindest and noblest. Money really seems
to me of very little value, except as a means of promoting human
happiness. And in this case I might perhaps prevent moral degradation,
growing out of misfortune and despair."
After some conversation concerning vessels that were about to sail,
the friends parted. On her way homeward, she wondered within herself
whether they had any suspicion of the secret tie that bound her so
closely to these unfortunate girls. "I ought to do the same for them
without that motive," thought she; "but should I?"
Though her call had not been very long, it seemed so to Flora, who
had latterly been little accustomed to solitude. She had no heart
for books or drawing. She sat listlessly watching the crowd on Monte
Pincio;--children chasing each other, or toddling about with nurses
in bright-red jackets; carriages going round and round, ever and anon
bringing into the sunshine gleams of gay Roman scarfs, or bright
autumnal ribbons fluttering in the breeze. She had enjoyed few things
more than joining that fashionable promenade to overlook the city in
the changing glories of sunset. But now she cared not for it. Her
thoughts were far away on the lonely island. As sunset quickly faded
into twilight, carriages and pedestrians wound their way down the
hill. The noble trees on its summit became solemn silhouettes against
the darkening sky, and the monotonous trickling of the fountain in the
court below sounded more distinct as the street noises subsided. She
was growing a little anxious, when she heard soft footfalls on the
stairs, which she at once recognized and hastened to meet. "O, you
have been gone so long!" she exclaimed. Happy, as all human beings
are, to have another heart so dependent on them, the gratified lady
passed her arm round the waist of the loving child, and they ascended
to their rooms like two confidential school-girls.
After tea, Mrs. Delano said, "Now I will keep my promise of telling
you all I have discovered." Flora ran to an ottoman by her side, and,
leaning on her lap, looked up eagerly into her face. "You must try
not to be excitable, my dear," said her friend; "for I have some
unpleasant news to tell you."
The expressive eyes, that were gazing wistfully into hers while she
spoke, at once assumed that startled, melancholy look, strangely in
contrast with their laughing shape. Her friend was so much affected by
it that she hardly knew how to proceed with her painful task. At last
Flora murmured, "Is she dead?"
"I have heard no such tidings, darling," she replied. "But Mr.
Fitzgerald has married a Boston lady, and they were the visitors who
came here this morning."
Flora sprung up and pressed her hand on her heart, as if a sharp arrow
had hit her. But she immediately sank on the ottoman again, and said
in tones of suppressed agitation: "Then he has left poor Rosa. How
miserable she must be! She loved him so! O, how wrong it was for me
to run away and leave her! And only to think how I have been enjoying
myself, when she was there all alone, with her heart breaking! Can't
we go to-morrow to look for her, dear Mamita?"
"In three days a vessel will sail for Marseilles," replied Mrs.
Delano. "Our passage is taken; and Mr. and Mrs. Percival, who intended
to return home soon, are kind enough to say they will go with us. I
wish they could accompany us to the South; but he is so well known
as an Abolitionist that his presence would probably cause unpleasant
interruptions and delays, and perhaps endanger his life."
Flora seized her hand and kissed it, while tears were dropping fast
upon it. And at every turn of the conversation, she kept repeating,
"How wrong it was for me to run away and leave her!"
"No, my child," replied Mrs. Delano, "you did right in coming to me.
If you had stayed there, you would have made both her and yourself
miserable, beside doing what was very wrong. I met Mr. Fitzgerald once
on horseback, while I was visiting at Mr. Welby's plantation; but I
never fairly saw him until to-day. He is so very handsome, that, when
I looked at him, I could not but think it rather remarkable he did not
gain a bad power over you by his insinuating flattery, when you were
so very young and inexperienced."
The guileless little damsel looked up with an expression of surprise,
and said: "How _could_ I bear to have him make love to _me_, when he
was Rosa's husband? He is so handsome and fascinating, that, if he had
loved me instead of Rosa, in the beginning, I dare say I should have
been as much in love with him as she was. I did dearly love him while
he was a kind brother; but I couldn't love him _so_. It would have
killed Rosa if I had. Besides, he told falsehoods; and papa taught us
to consider that as the meanest of faults. I have heard him tell Rosa
he never loved anybody but her, when an hour before he had told me he
loved me better than Rosa. What could I do but despise such a man?
Then, when he threatened to sell me, I became dreadfully afraid of
him." She started up, as if struck by a sudden thought, and exclaimed
wildly, "What if he has sold Rosa?"
Her friend brought forward every argument and every promise she could
think of to pacify her; and when she had become quite calm, they sang
a few hymns together, and before retiring to rest knelt down side by
side and prayed for strength and guidance in these new troubles.
Flora remained a long time wakeful, thinking of Rosa deserted and
alone. She had formed many projects concerning what was to be seen
and heard and done in Rome; but she forgot them all. She did not even
think of the much-anticipated opera, until she heard from the street
snatches of Norma, whistled or sung by the dispersing audience. A
tenor voice passed the house singing, _Vieni_ _in Roma_. "Ah," thought
she, "Gerald and I used to sing that duet together. And in those
latter days how languishingly he used to look at me, behind her back,
while he sang passionately, '_Ah, deh cedi, cedi a me_!' And poor
cheated Rosa would say, 'Dear Gerald, how much heart you put into your
voice!' O shame, shame! What _could_ I do but run away? Poor Rosa! How
I wish I could hear her sing 'Casta Diva,' as she used to do when we
sat gazing at the moon shedding its soft light over the pines in that
beautiful lonely island."
And so, tossed for a long while on a sea of memories, she finally
drifted into dream-land.