With these memories floating before her drowsy eyes, she fell asleep, and slept for a long time.

As her slumbers grew lighter, dreams of father, mother, and sister passed through various changes; the last of which was that Flora was puzzling the mocking-birds.

She waked to the consciousness that some one was whistling in the room.
"Who is that!" exclaimed she; and the parrot replied with a tempest of imitations.

Madame, hearing the noise, came in, saying: "How stupid I was not to cover the cage! She is _so_ noisy! Her memory is wonderful.
I don't think she'll ever forget a note of all the _melange_ dear Floracita took so much pains to teach her." She began to call up reminiscences of Flora's incessant mischief; but finding Rosa in no mood for anything gay, she proceeded to talk over the difficulties of her position, concluding with the remark: "To-day and to-night you must rest, my child.

But early to-morrow you and the Signor will start for New York, whence you will take passage to Marseilles, under the name of Signor Balbino and daughter." "I wish I could stay here, at least for a little while," sighed Rosa.
"It's never wise to wish for what cannot be had," rejoined Madame.