been used to being a person of consequence in her little world; and
though they were very kind to her, they often forgot that she was
present, and never seemed to miss her when she was away. She had led
a very secluded life from her earliest childhood, but she had never
before been so entirely out of sight of houses and people. During the
few weeks she had passed in Nassau, she had learned to do shell-work
with a class of young girls; and it being the first time she had
enjoyed such companionship, she found it peculiarly agreeable. She
longed to hear their small talk again; she longed to have Rosa to
herself, as in the old times; she longed for her father's caresses,
for Madame Guirlande's brave cheerfulness, for the Signor's peppery
outbursts, which she found very amusing; and sometimes she thought
how pleasant it would be to hear Florimond say that her name was the
prettiest in the world. She often took out a pressed geranium blossom,
under which was written "Souvenir de Florimond "; and she thought
_his_ name was very pretty too. She sang Moore's Melodies a great
deal; and when she warbled,

"Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friend I love best!"

she sighed, and thought to herself, "Ah! if I only _had_ a friend
to love best!" She almost learned "Lalla Rookh" by heart; and she
pictured herself as the Persian princess listening to a minstrel in
Oriental costume, but with a very German face. It was not that the
child was in love, but her heart was untenanted; and as memories
walked through it, it sounded empty.

Tulee, who was very observing where her affections were concerned,
suspected that she was comparing her own situation with that of Rosa.