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 silver. "What a pretty picture I could make, if I had my crayons here," thought she. "How gracefully the glossy folds of Mamita's gray dress fall over Rosa's crimson merino."
She was not aware that she herself made quite as charming a picture. The spirit of laughter still flitted over her face, from eyes to dimples; her shining black curls were lighted up with a rope of cherry-colored chenille, hanging in a tassel at her ear; and her graceful little figure showed to advantage in a neatly fitting dress of soft brown merino, embroidered with cherry-colored silk. On her lap was little Lila, dressed in white and azure, with her fine flaxen curls tossed about by the motion of riding to "Banbury Cross." The child laughed and clapped her hands at every caper; and if her steed rested for a moment, she called out impatiently, "More agin, mamma!"
But mamma was thinking of the picture she wanted to make, and at last she said: "We sha'n't get to Banbury Cross to-day, Lila Blumen; so you must fall off your horse, darling, and nursey will take you, while I go to fetch my crayons." She had just taken her little pet by the hand to lead her from the room, when the door-bell rang. "That's Mrs. Fitzgerald," said she. "I know, because she always rings an appoggiatura. Rosen Blumen, take sissy to the nursery, please."
While the ladies were interchanging salutations with their visitor, Rosa passed out of the room, leading her little sister by the hand. "I declare," said Mrs. Fitzgerald, "that oldest daughter of yours, Mrs. Blumenthal, bears a striking resemblance to the cantatrice who was turning everybody's head when I was in Rome. You missed hearing her, I remember. Let me see, what was her nomme de guerre? I forget; but it was something that signified a bell, because there was a peculiar ringing in her voice. When I first saw your daughter, she reminded me of somebody I had seen; but I never thought who it was till now. I came to tell you some news about the fascinating Señorita; and I suppose that brought the likeness to my mind. You know Mr. King, the son of our rich old merchant, persuaded her to leave the stage to marry him. They have been living in the South of France for some years, but he has just returned to Boston. They have taken rooms at the Revere House, while his father's house is being fitted up in grand style for their reception. The lady will of course be a great lioness. She is to make her first appearance at the party of my cousin, Mrs. Green. The winter is so nearly at an end, that I doubt whether there will be any more large parties this season; and I wouldn't fail of attending this one on any account, if it were only for the sake of seeing her. She was the handsomest creature I ever beheld. If you had ever seen her, you would consider it a compliment indeed to be told that your Rosa resembles her."
"I should like to get a glimpse of her, if I could without the trouble of going to a party," replied Mrs. Blumenthal.
"I will come the day after," rejoined Mrs. Fitzgerald, "and tell you how she was dressed, and whether she looks as handsome in the parlor as she did on the stage."
After some more chat about reported engagements, and the probable fashions for the coming season, the lady took her leave.
When she was gone, Mrs. Delano remarked: "Mrs. King must be very handsome if she resembles our Rosa. But I hope Mrs. Fitzgerald will not be so injudicious as to talk about it before the child. She is free from vanity, and I earnestly wish she may remain so. By the way, Flora, this Mr. King is your father's namesake,—the one who, you told me, called at your house in New Orleans, when you were a little girl."
"I was thinking of that very thing," rejoined Mrs. Blumenthal, "and I was just going to ask you his Christian name. I should like to call there to take a peep at his handsome lady, and see whether he would recollect me. If he did, it would be no matter. So many years have passed, and I am such an old story in Boston, that nobody will concern themselves about me."
"I also should be rather pleased to call," said Mrs. Delano. "His father was a friend of mine; and it was through him that I became acquainted with your father. They were inseparable companions when they were young men. Ah, how long ago that seems! No wonder my hair is white. But please ring for Rosa, dear. I want to arrange her pattern before dinner."